Cannonball
by Let Love In
Summary: Gerald and Phoebe become boyfriend and girlfriend, but they want something, or someone, to distract Helga while they go on dates. What happens when Gerald asks Arnold do be that distraction?
1. Chapter 1

Cannonball

**Thanks so much to Inuyasha-loves-Kagome for the brilliant Hey Arnold! fiction ideas! They were genius! Anyways, so if you haven't guessed, this new fiction is brought upon by Inuyasha-loves-Kagome, and I hope I do a good job with it because I really like it! Anyways, onto the story!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold! or any of the characters!**

It was sixth period English, and Arnold had had about enough.

He grumbled to himself as he watched Phoebe and Gerald, making 'googoo-eyes' (although to him, they looked more like they had just been possessed, but who was he to judge?) from across the room. He sighed heavily, just loud enough for the two to hear. Oddly enough, there was a similar sigh just a few feet behind him. He turned around to see Helga G. Patacki, blonde hair with black undertones mussed up into a messy bun, crossing her arms with pure irritation. It might be the one time Arnold could ever empathize with Helga.

From the looks of it, Helga's 'screw the world' attitude had not subsided over the past eight years. She wore a blatant scowl on her face almost constantly, and she still used that tone of voice that scared everyone within a ten-foot radius. However, at least the pink stage was over.

Helga wore a simple white wife beater, dark blue jeans, and low top Converse shoes. She chewed a big, pink piece of gum as she twirled one half-black, half-blonde strand of hair around her finger. Some boys in her grade would say she was a 'looker', however most of those boys were too afraid to go near her. Sure, she plucked the unibrow and grew a few inches (not just in height), but she was still Helga.

Phoebe also seemed to sprout change once the P.S. 118 entered high school. Her former jet-black, short bob grew out to about her rib cage. It was straight as a pin, and shiny as a whistle. Excuse the cheesy similes.

At the start of middle school, she had ditched the glasses for a pair of light turquoise contacts that were absolutely mesmerizing. She was wearing a dark blue tank top with knee length shorts and a pair of black sandals to match. Along with Helga, Phoebe was not one to dress over-the-top. In fact, Helga and Phoebe often shared each other's clothes, seeing as they had grown to be about the same size (although Phoebe was somewhat shorter).

Phoebe and Helga were not the only ones to stay true to each other. Arnold and Gerald were still best friends as well, going on a solid thirteen-year friendship. Gerald cut the high top to a low top, just a few inches above his head. He was captain of Hilwood High's Thundercats' basketball team, while Arnold just played for the team (along with Sid, while Stinky and Harold joined football instead).

Arnold eventually ditched the kilt halfway through the seventh grade, and began wearing simple clothing items like blue jeans and a black T-shirt, or white, or whatever color. Arnold was not the stylish one of the group he belonged to, but his look just… suit him. It was purely Arnold.

As for Arnold's living situation, his parents still hadn't come home. He hadn't lost hope, but it was slowly waning. Miraculously, his grandpa and grandma were still alive, and there were still some boarders left from elementary school, such as Oskar, Suzie, and Ernie. Mr. Hyunh unfortunately moved into his own apartment once he got a job for the local newspaper. He visited often, though. They also had one new boarder, Forrest Townsend, a businessman from Phoenix, Arizona. He was a personable man in his twenties, who just couldn't seem to hold a girlfriend. Most of the time, he was going out on dates, and the rest of the time he was working. Although Arnold didn't see so much of him, he seemed like an older brother to Arnold. He was a good addition to the boarding house family.

The rest of the P.S. 118 gang had not changed drastically. Sid still rested a backwards cap over his stringy hair, and he still was the 'rebel' out of the group. Rhonda was still filthy rich, but they all put up with her anyway. Although, she had caught on to a new color: royal blue ("Red is _so _last season." She explained). As explained before, Stinky and Harold were both on the Thundercats' football team. Meaning, Harold was still large and Stinky was still taller than most average people. They made a good team. Eugene still had mushy red hair, the classic sandals and sock combination, and with no surprise, was the head of the Theater Company.

One drastic change did appear in one strange individual: Thaddeus Gamelthorpe, or as he was more commonly known, Curly. Picture this: 4th grade Curly, minus the glasses and the odd haircut, plus about two feet and four octaves lower voice-wise. This is what Thaddeus "Curly" Gamelthorpe looked like now. He had grown out of his awkward stage and into a tall, average built high school junior with scruffy jet-black hair and holes in his jeans. There was just one setback to this glorious miracle. He was still just as crazy as he was in elementary school, if not crazier. And yes, he still had a crush on Rhonda.

And so, Helga sat in English class along with Arnold, staring at Phoebe and Gerald pass notes frivolously back and forth, giggling every few moments. The two blondes were utterly unamused.

"Helga?" Mr. Simmons asked (yes, he transferred to Hilwood High just one year before the P.S. 118 gang arrived). Helga snapped her head towards Simmons and sneered.

"What?"

"I think you should be paying attention, because this information will be on the test," He replied timidly to Helga's snap. She rolled her eyes, popped her gum and picked away at one bright pink nail. If she had to look at Phoebe bite her bottom lip one more time, she would bite it off for her. The girl was a loony when she had a crush.

Luckily, the bells were in Arnold and Helga's favor. The monotonous ringing prompted a few utter sighs of happiness. It was lunchtime.

After getting out of the lunch line, the gang headed to their daily table. Helga sat down next to Phoebe, who was across from Gerald, who sat next to Arnold. The four of them were oddly quiet, while the rest of the table filled with idle chatter. Helga impatiently took a bite of her sub sandwich, as did Arnold. Their two friends were still making eyes at each other.

"Okay, we all know you two have something going on, you might as well just get on with it," Helga snapped. Phoebe turned a shade of red that matched the tomatoes in her sandwich. Gerald simply dropped his jaw; all while a glob of food was still inside of it.

"Helga! No one was supposed to know that!" Phoebe sharply whispered. By now, the rest of the table had become interested.

"Please, Phoebe. They all knew, right guys?"

"Psh, I knew before they did!" Rhonda snorted, taking a sip of her mineral water with a smidgen of mint flavoring added.

"You mean it was supposed to be a secret?" Chimed in Sid. If possible, Phoebe's face grew even redder. All Helga could do was giggle. She loved being the bearer of bad news.

"Helga, don't you think you could have said that a little quieter?" Arnold asked. Helga blew a blonde strand of hair away from her face.

"Shove it, football head. If I didn't say something soon, I might've gouged my own eyes out with a spoon. Their sick, nerdy flirting was getting to the best of me, and I know I wasn't the only one, Arnoldo,"

Arnold sighed. Eight years, and those silly nicknames hadn't worn off yet. But she was right; he was beginning to feel his breakfast in his throat every time he watched their gooey love fests.

All the while, Phoebe had successfully broken the world record for reddest face, and Gerald had just began eating again, trying to block out all other conversations. Once in a while, they caught each others eye for a split second, but they always reverted back to what they were doing.

Finally, lunch ended. Both Arnold and Helga thanked the stars they had separate classes, away from each other and away from the lovebirds. And that was how the rest of the day went by.

As soon as school let out, the juniors rushed to their lockers. As if there wasn't enough drama in their lives, the gang wanted to see Phoebe and Gerald's dilemma play out as if it was a soap opera. And they were in luck.

"Phoebe, you know what they said at lunch was right," Gerald said timidly. Phoebe nodded, her hands glued behind her back and her eyes set on a spot on Gerald's t-shirt. Little did they know, the rest of their friends were just around the corner, hearing every word they were saying.

"So I was just wondering… Would you be my girlfriend?"

Phoebe's breath caught in her throat like a fly in a spider's web. She knew her answer was a definite "Yes! Yes! Oh God, yes!" but she couldn't bring herself to answer with such enthusiasm.

"Um, sure," She smiled weakly, but it quickly faded when she heard commotion and cheering behind her back.

"It took you two long enough! We've been waiting since the fourth grade for you guys," Curly cheered, "Now it's just a matter of time before my sweet Rhonda realizes I'm the one for her," He swooned hopefully. Rhonda, standing right next to him, rolled her eyes. She was used to this sort of thing from Curly.

Arnold came up behind Rhonda and patted Gerald on the back, although he wasn't completely sure about him and Phoebe dating. However, he shoved that thought deep into the depths of his mind, hoping to forget it for now.

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter! I figured I'd just give you an intro as to what was going on with the P.S. 118 kids, and the base of the plot. I hope you enjoyed! Please review, I want to know your thoughts!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, thanks so much for the reviews! I didn't know this was going to be a hit ;). Anywho, enjoy!**

Arnold and Helga stood awkwardly by the lockers the very next day, waiting for their two best friends so they could drive home. Phoebe perfectly fit into Gerald's arms, although she was rather short for her age and he was the basketball star of Hilwood High. They had been sharing short, timid kisses for the past few minutes.

"You know, I think their sick, nerdy kissing is much worse than the sick, nerdy flirting." Helga stated as she stood with her hands on her hips. Arnold shrugged. He wasn't opposed to the PDA, but he just wanted to get home. And he definitely didn't want to break up the couple. Helga had a mind of her own, though.

Clearing her throat rather loudly, the two broke apart and looked at their friends. Phoebe blushed deep crimson, and Gerald just gave Arnold a thumbs up, out of Phoebe's view, of course.

"Can we get a move on? I don't wanna miss the wrestling match of the year thanks to you two getting your freak on,"

Phoebe widened her eyes at Helga. She hated when her friend embarrassed her like that, but Gerald didn't seem to notice. Carefully, Phoebe stood on the tippity-tip of her toes and gave Gerald a kiss on the cheek before gleefully skipping over to Helga, who was dangling the keys to her car on her index finger. Gerald waved a lovesick goodbye to Phoebe and caught up with Arnold, who was already walking in the opposite direction.

"Man, Phoebe is… something, isn't she?" Gerald asked absentmindedly.

"Uh huh," Arnold replied. Gerald seemed to be in a daze the whole ride to his house. Thankfully, Arnold cranked up his stereo and sang to the tune of "With A Little Help From My Friends" by The Beatles to avoid any other conversation about Phoebe.

They had been dating for two days, and they were already too caught up in each other to realize how weird they had been acting. It wasn't like Arnold disapproved their relationship, he just wished they didn't get so involved so fast.

"I'm thinking of asking Phoebe on a date for this Friday, what do you think?"

His voice broke Arnold's thoughts as Gerald was climbing out of the car.

"Huh? Yeah, that'd be cool." Arnold replied idly.

"All right, awesome. I'll catch up with you later," Gerald called out as he entered his front door. Arnold zoomed off without answering.

At that same moment just a few miles away, Helga was dropping off Phoebe, who described to Helga that she had a 'butterfly-filled stomach'. Helga could just puke right there.

"I'll catch ya later, Pheebs."

Phoebe barely mumbled a goodbye before dizzily making her way out of the car and into her cozy two-story abode.

Helga muttered obscenities to herself as she drove her big, flaming red truck to her own home, hoping to take a lengthy soak in the tub after her wrestling match.

Just minutes later, she pulled up to that same house she had been living in for years. Locking her car, she made her way up the deteriorating stoop and entered the house. She walked in to see Miriam, with a small glass of Scotch in her hand and a celebrity gossip magazine on the table in front of her.

"Hello Miriam," She greeted her mother and threw her backpack into a desolate corner before moseying into the kitchen for a snack.

"Helga, dear, how was school today?" Miriam asked in a monotonous tone. She took another sip of Scotch and flipped a page in the magazine.

"Same old. Pheebs and short-hair boy are dating now," Helga drawled.

"Oh, how nice."

Opening a box of donuts, she plucked out a glazed one and made her way to the couch to watch some wrestling.

For Helga, the most relaxing thing in the world would be lazing around on the couch with a sugarcoated heart attack and a steel cage wrestling match. Especially after a day like today. She sighed in utter contentment and let it all sink in.

Arnold, on the other hand, was miserable at the boarding house. His grandma had some crazy epiphany and decided to renovate the kitchen so that all the appliances were moved to the opposite sides of the room, and one of the walls was left blank and painted back to it's original white color. Apparently, she was going to paint a mural there. So for the past few days the whole house had smelled of paint and he couldn't bear it.

"Evening, Arnold," Grandma called from the kitchen. Arnold decided against correcting her and reminding her it was still the afternoon, and went to his room. It even smelled of paint in there, as well. Arnold groaned.

His room had not changed over the years. He still had spaceship sheets and a remote controlled couch. However, now in the corner was a keyboard and a stool. Recently, Arnold had taken up the piano, and creating his own tunes and songs. It wasn't professional or anything, it was just something to pass the time when he wasn't doing homework or at basketball practice.

He did his homework for about two hours before the paint fumes started getting to his brain cells. Fresh air was starting to sound better and better by the second. Setting down his Calculus book, he stepped out onto the balcony and sighed. The tangerine sky was slowly becoming darker. He stood there for quite some time before dinner was ready.

The rest of his night consisted of paint-filled breaths and arguments about whether or not nudity was acceptable on Grandma's mural. Arnold couldn't wait to get to sleep.

The next morning at school was like heaven. Although the school smelled of sweaty teenagers and shitty cafeteria food, it wasn't paint. And that made Arnold happy. Although it was day three of the Phoebe-Gerald lovefest and everyone was talking about it.

"I hear they were on the phone until five in the morning last night. I mean, look at those bags under her eyes! Talk about tacky," Rhonda muttered to the rest of them. Most all of the teens nodded their heads in silent agreement. They eyed Gerald and Phoebe from across the lockers.

"Ah, but it is young love! How could you, my darling, oppose to such sweet purity?" Curly cajoled in Rhonda's direction. She rolled her eyes and shrugged off the hand that snaked its way onto her shoulder. Helga kept stealing glances at Sid, who was giving Gerald the thumbs up sign. Boys will be boys, she thought.

"Don't be Debby Downers, you guys! Let them have their fun," Eugene replied in a cheery tone. Now it was everyone else's turn to roll their eyes in his direction.

Luckily the bell ended their conversation. Arnold saddled his backpack on his back and began walking to Anatomy when Phoebe grabbed his arm.

"Yes?" He asked. Her teal eyes shifted oddly. She looked worried.

"Arnold, I have a favor to ask you…" She whispered.

"What is it?"

"Well," She took a short pause. Her eyes finally rested upon his, and she continued, "I think you heard that Gerald and I are going on a date tomorrow? Well, there's a slight problem. Helga wants to… come along, I guess. And, no offense to her of course, I think I should just go solo for this one, you know? Anyways, Gerald wanted me to ask you this small favor. Could you… keep Helga busy while we are on the date?" Phoebe shifted about nervously. She hated to ask favors of others.

"Uh… What do you mean 'keep Helga busy'? What do you want me to do?" Arnold replied, somewhat frantically.

"Here's the genius of the plan: Gerald's dad just won two tickets to the Steel Cage of Doom wrestling match at Hilwood Arena tomorrow night," Phoebe dug around in her pocket and pulled out two slips of laminated paper and handed them to Arnold, "He didn't want them, something about how wrestling was 'unethical', so he gave them to Gerald. You know how much Helga loves wrestling."

Arnold gulped and nodded. He felt his stomach drop inside of him. He had to ask Helga… on a date?

_No, _he told himself, _It's not a date, I'm just distracting her from crashing Gerald and Phoebe's dates. That's all._

He took the tickets and shoved them in his pocket. Just as he was about to walk off to his next class, Phoebe began to talk again.

"But you can't tell her why you're asking her, all right? I would feel bad if she knew why." Phoebe said quietly. Arnold could feel his stomach drop even farther. He nodded once more, which caused Phoebe to squeal.

"Thank you so much!" She jumped forward and hugged his waist (she wasn't tall enough to reach his chest) and walked off to her first period class.

As soon as it was lunchtime, Arnold's hands were sweating profusely and he practiced what he was going to say over and over again in his head. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, but he was too busy practicing his lines to care. As soon as Helga sat down at the table, both Gerald and Phoebe shot glances at him. It was time.

"Uh, Helga? Can I talk to you over there?" Arnold asked shakily. Helga blew a blonde strand of hair away from her face and gave him a confusing frown. Nevertheless, she rose from her chair and followed Arnold away from the lunch table. It didn't help that all of their friends were staring intently at the two. He swore they were about to pull out binoculars to see the show.

"I, well, I have to ask you something." He said as he began feeling around his pocket for the tickets.

"Get on with it, football head." She mumbled, while picking at a fingernail. He showed her the two slips of paper and her eyes lit up like they were on fire.

"Well, I know how much you love wrestling and I won these and no one at the boarding house wanted to go with me, so… Would you come with?" He asked apprehensively. She paused for a few moments.

"Well, this situation does have its downside, but I could never resist a live wrestling game. I'll go, just don't talk to me so much." She replied coldly, before snatching a ticket away from his hand and sauntering back to the lunch table. He followed with his imaginative tail in between his legs. So much for that.

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this one took quite some time to get out. I was obsessively working on Here Comes The Sun for the past few days, I just didn't have the time for this one. But here you go! I hope it wasn't messy or anything. Review and tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'm sorry I haven't been working on this one too much, I've been so busy with 'Here Comes the Sun' (you should check it out, by the way)! Anyways, on with the story :.**

Arnold sat watching Gerald hold up two separate t-shirts, for the millionth time.

"So are you sure this one is better?" He asked, holding up one of the t-shirts. Arnold nodded and sighed. He had never seen Gerald so hung up about his looks in his life, and now that he has, he found it to be somewhat comical. It was like Gerald was a girl getting ready for her first date.

Gerald rushed into Arnold's bathroom to change into the navy blue shirt that Arnold had approved.

Remembering that Arnold had an event to attend to as well, he decided some grooming was in need. He looked down at his plain white v-neck and long, dark blue jeans. Straightening out a crease on his t-shirt, he nodded in contentment. Done.

"How is it? Do I look like I'm trying too hard?" Gerald said as he emerged. The blonde groaned.

"You are such a girl."

"Come on, man! I need to look good for this," Gerald whined, looking down at his appearance once again.

"You look like you always do. Now get out of my house and pick up your girlfriend, it's about time that I pick up Helga, too."

Gerald bobbed his head up and down and grabbed his cell phone from Arnold's bed.

"Thanks again for doing that for me, man. I mean, I knew Helga was a protective friend, but coming on a date with us? That's freaky! Anyways, I'll catch ya later,"

Arnold waved goodbye to his best friend and gathered his things as well. Ticket? Check. Keys? Check. Cell phone? Check. Dignity? Che- well, he'll look for that one later.

"Grandpa, I'm leaving now!" He yelled as he trotted down the stairs and to the kitchen for a bottle of water.

"What did you say about laundry?" Grandpa yelled back from the couch. Arnold slapped his forehead and didn't even bother to answer before he burst out the door into the cool night air. Unlocking the doors to his car, he hopped in and started the engine. And then his face dropped.

What music should he play?

He knew Helga was into somewhat 'hardcore', or metal, music but he wasn't sure if he even had any decent metal in his CD collection. Arnold usually listened to bands labeled as indie, or mostly non-mainstream bands. Picking up his CDs, he flipped through the titles quickly.

"Iron and Wine, The Bealtes, Sufjan Stevens, The Format, no, no, no… Here we go."

He held up a CD case in his hand, which read 'Korn' in long, jagged lettering. He was clueless as to why he has the CD, but he slipped it into the player and started to drive.

After about ten seconds, he asked himself why this was the only metal CD he had in his car. Furthermore, he wondered why he even cared what music she wanted to listen to. It was his car, and this band was definitely not his style. Not his style at all.

Eventually, through the pain and agony, he pulled up to Helga's shabby house. Timidly, he left his car on while he approached the meager wooden door that was the entrance to the house. He knocked lightly, afraid of breaking the door down with a simple, hard knock.

"Miriam, I'm going out!" Helga shouted at the top of her lungs from behind the door. She swiftly pulled open the slab of wood and looked at Arnold with a scowl.

"Let's get a move on," She muttered as she pushed passed his thin frame and made her way to his car. As soon as she plopped down on the passenger seat, she winced.

"What is this shit?" She asked him, pointing towards the radio. Arnold blanched.

"Um, it's a Korn CD. Why, do you not like it?" He asked hesitantly. He could feel the fear growing in his eyes as he looked at her; the mean, green, football head-eating machine. But she merely shrugged.

"Whatever floats your boat, Arnoldo."

Arnold let go of the breath he was holding in and changed the CD with pleasure. After that, they were off. Unfortunately, Arnold couldn't think of one thing to say to fill the air. Finding a conversation topic was like pulling teeth. Hard, rotting, plaque-infested teeth.

Finally, they parked in the crowded parking lot and made their way into the building. It was then that Arnold took the time to glance over at Helga. She actually cleaned up nicely.

She wore dark, thin jeans and her usual pair of Converse. A simple, black wife beater rested on her shoulders and her blonde hair with black undertones was straight as a pin. Arnold almost blushed.

"Pick up the pace," She muttered to him with a roll of the eyes. Not saying a word, he obeyed with no hesitation. This night was going to be long; there was no doubt about it.

As soon as they were seated with their drinks; Helga with a monster-sized Mountain Dew and Arnold with a cup of water, they grew silent. The crowd around them was rowdy, seeing as it was mostly filled with fat, middle-aged men in t-shirts that read 'Mighty Exodus vs. Maverick Shadow: The Ultimate Steel Cage of Doom showdown!'

However, all of the hooting and yelling did not keep it from being slightly awkward between Arnold and Helga. He sat shifting in his seat, wondering why he was even there in the first place. Oh yeah, because he was a good friend. Damn his morals, damn them to hell.

A grueling ten minutes later, the match began. And Arnold couldn't have been more grateful in his life.

Cheers and jeers ensued, all the while Helga was yelling at the top of her lungs:

"Come on, Mav! Kick his ass!"

The loud yells and screaming was beginning to seep into Arnold's skull. Soon enough, he himself even began to cheer when Maverick Shadow was on top of things, and boo when he wasn't. Helga's chest swelled with pride.

By the time the match had ended, Arnold's throat had become scratchy like a cat's tongue. He wasn't used to getting riled up, and it sure did take a toll on his esophagus.

"Well, Arnoldo, I didn't think you had it in you," Helga commented as they walked back to the car. It was about ten at night, and the pitch-blackness of the atmosphere was unbearable.

"To tell you the truth, I didn't think I did either." Arnold replied with a polite chuckle. They finally plopped down into the car and turned the heat on full blast before getting on the road once again. But for some reason, Arnold wasn't exactly ready for the night to end.

"Do you want to get some ice cream at the Golden Spoon? I'm sort of hungry," Arnold asked, somewhat quietly. Helga frowned for a second, but stopped herself. And sighed.

"Fine. Only if you pay, bucko, the only cash I brought was for that mondo Mountain Dew."

Arnold almost groaned, but he knew it was Helga's nicest way of saying yes, so he kept his mouth shut and turned up the music.

The Golden Spoon was positively deserted. One wouldn't believe anyone had even stepped foot in that parlor if it weren't for all trash resting on the tables. They paid for their ice cream and sat down at a miniscule table with uncomfortable chairs.

"So I'm guessing you liked the match, huh?" Helga asked with a spoonful of Brownie Batter in her mouth. His head bobbed up and down like a bobble head.

"I never knew I could get so sucked into a game like that!" Arnold exclaimed. Helga snorted half-heartedly.

"I definitely know the feeling. Beats being home, too."

"Why is that?" Arnold asked as he scooped vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips into his mouth. Helga shrugged, nonchalantly.

"Eh, Bob usually comes home at around this time. And he's usually so bitchy when he comes home from work so I usually like to be out at this time. Plus, Miriam is probably drunk by now, and not to say that isn't hilarious, I just don't like to take care of that crippling mess," Helga commented, as if it wasn't a big deal at all. Arnold felt slightly uncomfortable, knowing that his home life was a little weird, but he didn't have those sorts of problems. He almost felt like comforting Helga, or probing deeper into the subject, but he did neither. Instead, he took another bite so something other than words would occupy his mouth.

The rest of the snack was served in silence. As soon as they threw away their Styrofoam containers, they were back in the heated car with the music blasting. Arnold dropped Helga off with some regret, now knowing what goes on in her lonely house after hours. But he did so without so much as a 'see you at school on Monday', and the squeaking of rubber tires as he sped around the corner.

He arrived home to find his grandmother cooking dinner. Yes, dinner at 10:30 PM.

The boarders all surrounded the table with forks in their hands, and exasperated expressions on their face. It was obvious they had been waiting for quite some time.

"One final touch…" Grandma whispered as she looked at the yellow pineapple mess with bits of chicken and other unknown meats throw in. She grabbed for the paprika shaker, and added a dash.

"Voila!" She squealed, before dishing out the odd looking meal. The boarders all questioned the dish for a few seconds before digging in, not caring what it was just because they were so hungry. Arnold sat in his usual seat at the table, but didn't dare ask for the weird concoction.

"So Arnold, how was your little date?" Grandma asked suggestively as she took a bite. Arnold gulped.

"What date? I didn't go on a date, it was just… a friend thing."

The whole table smirked at Arnold's denial. Well, except for Grandpa.

"Who's Nate?"

Arnold sighed and took a sip of water his grandma set up for him. He was hoping to ignore the 'date' conversation for at least the next few days of school, and now his own family was asking.

"I'm just going to go to sleep, goodnight all."

The table muttered goodnights as Arnold trotted up the stairs and slipped under his sheets. Although he was thoroughly exhausted, he couldn't quite seem to sleep. Whether it was the nagging feeling in his stomach that he had actually had _fun _on this 'date' with Helga, or maybe it was due to the cheering, booing, and the yelling of 'Yahtzee!' coming from downstairs. He wasn't sure which.

The weekend passed by without hesitance. It seemed as if the hours were slipping through Arnold's fingers like sand. And before he knew it, it was Monday.

As soon as Arnold arrived at school, he was bombarded by a very tall, very exasperated Gerald.

"Dude! That shirt must have worked!" He exclaimed. Arnold squinted his eyes and gave him a 'go on' look.

"Phoebe and I had the greatest time! So great, that we hung out Saturday night too! Man, it was just great. I took to her La Vigne, you know, that new French place by the sushi bar? We ended up staying and talking until the restaurant closed!"

If Arnold squinted enough, he probably could have seen little hearts in Gerald's eyes. The guy was a hopeless fool.

"That sounds very nice," Arnold commented as he picked a pesky hangnail.

"How was the wrestling match?" Gerald asked eagerly. Arnold sighed, knowing that question was coming.

"Fun, I had a good time. We went for ice cream afterwards, which was good too."

"Woah, woah woah. You were for ice cream? That wasn't part of the deal, you didn't have to do that."

"I know, I know. I was just… hungry. And I think she was too, so we went. It was just an extra half hour, who cares?"

Gerald sighed, and put a heavy hand on his buddy's shoulder.

"Arnold, my dear friend, you don't just take a girl out for ice cream after a fake date."

"Whatever, it was nothing." Arnold huffed as he turned on one heel and began to walk away from Gerald.

"You keep telling yourself that!" Gerald yelled after him.

**A/N: Hey all! Sorry this update took so long. I was busy with Here Comes the Sun, which I still have to finish but I figured I'd let out at least another chapter of this story before I finished the other. Anyways, please review, I'd love to hear what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I am so sorry I haven't updated in forever! Don't hate me!**

For Arnold, most of his day was filled with odd, humorous glances in his direction. All of his friends new about his fake date with Helga, and it seemed as though Gerald had told them about going for ice cream afterwards. Just what Arnold needed.

Helga, however, acted like nothing ever happened. The only time she spoke to him all day was at lunch, when she asked him to pass her some napkins. Actually, it sounded a little more like "Pass those napkins over here, this Sloppy Joe is dripping like a goddamn faucet". Ah, such grace.

Arnold couldn't help but notice the sniggers coming from Rhonda, Sid, Stinky, and Harold at the lunch table. They whispered avidly and looked over at Arnold from time to time, gasping when he caught them glancing. What was this, middle school? And what could possibly be so funny? He didn't bother asking them these questions. Instead, he left the lunch table early and headed to his next class.

The rest of the day passed by in a strange manner. In his next class, he almost had to plug his ears as Eugene spoke animatedly.

"So I hear you and Helga went out this weekend! To a wrestling match, huh? Oh, how exciting! By the by… did you hear that I'm directing this season's play? It's Romeo and Juliet, a classic of course! You know what would be _bundles _of fun? You should try out as Romeo! Maybe, you can get Helga to go for Juliet's part. How _perfect _would that be?"

Arnold mumbled something incoherent and clenched his fists as hard as he could. How was it that even Eugene knew about last weekend? The boy kept babbling into his ear and Arnold could almost feel himself wanting to raise one of those clenched fists and beat him upside the head with it. But he didn't. Damn his conscience.

By the end of school, his curiosity got the best of him. He had to know what had been discussed at the lunch table that afternoon. He approached Rhonda as soon as he saw her alone and pulled her to the side.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked in a serious tone.

"Of course, Arnold. What's on your mind?" She replied in a sickeningly sweet tone.

"What was up at lunch today? You guys were laughing at me," He commented. Rhonda let out a chuckle but stopped herself. Arnold was far from amused.

"Oh, that was nothing. Just… what Helga said about this weekend," Again, Rhonda couldn't help but snicker as she spoke.

"What did she say?" Arnold asked in an increasingly angry voice. If Rhonda laughed once more, he swore it would be the end of her. Suddenly, she grew serious.

"Oh, Arnold. You know I can't tell you that. I gave Helga my word!"

Now, it was Arnold's turn to snicker. Rhonda's word wasn't worth a penny nowadays. Everyone knew she was had the biggest mouth in Hilwood High.

"Tell me!" He growled. Rhonda's eyes grew wide.

"Fine, fine. She just told us about how funny it was that you got all 'into' the wrestling game. Oh, and she told us that you asked her to go to ice cream after the game, and how she figured she would… what was the word? Oh yes. She figured she would 'humor' you some more. Whatever that was supposed to mean." Rhonda said, nonchalantly. Arnold frowned.

"Humor me?" He clarified. Rhonda nodded, leaving Arnold to feel absolutely humiliated.

"I'm sorry Arnold, dear. But the truth is, you guys would not have made the best couple in the first place." Rhonda said, matter-of-factly.

"What? That was not my intention at all!" He exclaimed.

"Then what was your intention? I mean, you did take her to a wrestling game, which happens to be her favorite sport. You paid for her ice cream. The signs were there!"

Arnold gulped. He knew what his intention was: keep Helga away from Gerald and Phoebe. But telling that to Rhonda was the worst possible thing he could do.

"… I have to go." Arnold said suddenly, as he turned on one heel and bolted out of school. Rhonda stared at him peculiarly as he disappeared down the stairs.

He spotted Gerald with Phoebe as he was making a run for the door.

"Gerald, we're leaving!" He shouted over his shoulder. Gerald looked at his friend disappointedly, but obeyed.

"Dude, what is up with you? It looks like you just ran from the cops or something." Gerald asked as they took their seats in the car. Arnold frowned at Gerald.

"This whole 'you distract Helga while we go on a date' thing that you and Phoebe pulled totally backfired." Arnold said angrily.

"What do you mean?"

"Apparently, Helga thinks I want to date her now! She said the only reason she came for ice cream was to 'humor me some more'"

Gerald's face dropped and he looked at Arnold.

"Does that mean you wouldn't willing to distract her again?" He asked Arnold with pleading eyes. Arnold's jaw dropped in disbelief.

"After that humiliation?" He exclaimed, "No! Never again!"

"But Phoebe and I are going on a date again on Friday! And Helga knows, and she'll want to come along!" Gerald said, clearly exasperated. Arnold almost chuckled.

"How do you know she'll want to come along?"

"I don't know, man. It's so weird. I would have never pegged Helga for the overprotective best friend, but she is. Wait…" Gerald looked deep in thought, "Why don't you come with us? Like, a double date. But you won't be on a date; I'll say that I asked you to come along. And then maybe Helga won't want to go, and then you can both stay home!" He exclaimed excitedly. "It's genius!"

Gerald looked positively giddy, as though he had just scored the winning point for a basketball game. There was just one hole in his little plan.

"What if Helga decides to go anyways?" I asked. The smile on his face fell in an instant.

"Hm. Well, why would she? The only reason she went with you last time was because you had wrestling tickets. And now, we're just going out to dinner."

"You have a point there. Okay. But if this backfires again…"

"I know, I know. You'll kill me. Thanks man," Gerald said happily as the car rolled up to his house. He hopped out of the car and called goodbye to Arnold, who had no idea what he was getting himself into. The things he did for his best friend were ridiculous.

When he arrived at home, the familiar smell of paint filled my nostrils. He prayed for the day that this crazy hobby would be over, but he doubted that it would be in the near future. He entered the kitchen and saw as his grandma painted the wall with fervor. The brush strokes were fast and violent as her arms jerked around her 'canvas'. An opera CD was blasting from the stereo and her brush moved with the music. Arnold decided to never question his grandma's antics, as curious as he was about them. He left her to be alone.

Passing by the living room, he spotted his grandfather on the couch watching baseball. He quietly entered the room and sat down on the couch next to him.

"Grandpa, I have a problem." He commented.

"Spill it, short man," He replied, turning off the television. Arnold sighed, and began to tell him the whole story about Gerald and Phoebe, the 'date', and what had happened today. His grandpa looked thoughtfully at him.

"Hm. Seems like you're in a bit of a pickle, there. Have you ever thought about telling Hilda that you don't fancy her?"

"It's Helga, Grandpa."

"What's Helga?"

"Never mind. I guess that might work. Thanks!" Arnold cried happily before hugging him and rushing to his room to figure out what he would say to her.

The next morning, Arnold walked into school with confidence, replaying how the conversation would go over and over again in his head. Timidly, he approached her.

"Helga, can I talk to you for a second?"

She shrugged and followed him away from their group of friends.

"Okay, I just need to clear something up here. I didn't ask you to go to that wrestling game as a date, and I didn't ask you to go to ice cream as a date either. Those were not my intentions at all and I think you were a little mixed up about the whole thing." He said, just as he had planned.

"Sure, Arnoldo. I understand what you mean," She replied with a smirk on her face. He frowned, not expecting her to say that at all.

"Okay… so can you tell Rhonda and them that I don't want to date you because they seem to think otherwise, due to something you told them." He said, adding some bitterness at the end.

"Aw, did your feelings get hurt by little old me?" Helga asked in a mocking voice. Arnold rolled his eyes.

"No, they didn't. I was just a little humiliated when you told them that you would 'humor me' by going out for ice cream after the match!"

"So? I was telling the truth, is that such a bad thing to do? Geez, if I didn't know any better, I would think that you were taking this a little too far for someone who didn't consider it a date." She said, clearly enjoying her ability to drive him crazy.

"You have it all wrong!" He spat, before pushing past her to head to his first period class.

The rest of the week passed by without a word to Helga. Arnold couldn't believe how ruthless she was being towards him, but then he remembered who he was dealing with: the queen of all that is unholy. She must be hiding little red horns under all that blonde hair.

Finally, Thursday night rolled around, and Arnold received a phone call from Gerald.

"I have… bad news." Gerald said cautiously.

"I'm listening." Arnold responded dully. He already knew what was coming next.

"Helga still wants to come with us to dinner tomorrow night. That girl is crazy! I thought you two got in a fight? And when Phoebe told her that I invited you, she acted as if it was no big deal!"

"I'm sorry, Gerald, but I'm just not going to go. I can't stand her!" Arnold exclaimed wildly.

"Arnold. Please. You have to do this for me. Remember when I snagged you a date for homecoming in our freshman year? Or what about the time I built that atom model for you for chemistry last year? Or what about the time-"

"Okay, okay, I know you've done a lot for me. But I can't go with you guys! It'll be a disaster, and I'll be miserable. Can't you just reschedule the date?"

"I can't, I already made reservations last night and Phoebe is busy on Saturday night. I don't know what else I can do, man! What do you want from me? Money? I'll do anything!"

Arnold sighed, and again he cursed himself for being a good friend.

"Fine. But I will not let this go. Even when we're old men, and I need something from you, I will remind you of this day." Arnold stated in a serious tone.

"You're the best! Thank you so much. I promise you that it won't be that bad!" Gerald cried excitedly before hanging up.

_Won't be that bad? I'd have more fun digging a pencil into my ankle, _Arnold thought.

**A/N: So, what do you think? I hope it wasn't bad, please review and let me know! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I decided that I should be at least relatively quick about putting out this chapter because of how long it took me to update chapter four! I just really felt like writing right after I submitted chapter four, and figured that it couldn't hurt to post quickly! Enjoy!**

The very next day was Friday. Or, as Arnold called it, Doomsday. For today, he would be spending a nice, long, silence-filled dinner with his 'favorite' person. And the best friend, who roped him into all of this, and Phoebe. Although Phoebe didn't really do anything wrong in this situation, she was associated with Gerald and his evil master plans, so Arnold was not too happy about seeing her either. To sum it up, Arnold was bitter.

The school day passed by without much hesitance. Except, of course, Eugene kept prodding Arnold to try out for Romeo in the school play, in which Arnold pointed out that he had already been Romeo once before in a play, and didn't plan on doing it again. That didn't stop Eugene from bothering him, of course. The kid was ruthless.

As for the rest of his friends, they stopped whispering about him, but they still made everything slightly more uncomfortable. Raised eyebrows and odd smirks followed him throughout the day. It was rather unnerving.

Finally, school ended for the day. The last bell was bittersweet; he didn't have to sit through all the uncomfortable hints his friends threw at him, and he didn't have to sit through all the boring lectures. However, he was about to enter a whole new hell: dinner. He sighed.

After dropping off Gerald, he headed home to spend some quality time with the boarders before heading off to the restaurant. For the first time in quite a while, Forrest was home early from work.

"Arnold! Hey, long time no see. How have you been?"

Annoyed. Angry. Confused. Disoriented. A little hungry.

"I've been fine, how about yourself?" Arnold replied.

"Ah, I'm doing great. Went on a date with this girl last night… let me tell you, she was amazing. Tall, blonde, smart, polite… it was a lot of fun." The boarder stated dreamily. "Her name was Olga."

Arnold paled almost instantly. Olga? Meaning Helga's sister?

"Olga… what?"

Forrest looked at him with a bemused look.

"Olga Patricki or something. Why?"

"Pataki?"

"How did you know that?"

"I've known her little sister for… a long time." Arnold replied, "Actually, I'm, uh… hanging out with her tonight."

Forrest's face lit up and he nudged Arnold in the ribcage.

"Is she anything like her sister? If she is, you are one lucky boy, Arnold." He said with a large grin on his face. Arnold sighed.

"She's nothing like her, actually. Almost completely opposite." Arnold stated bitterly. The silly grin on Forrest's face disappeared.

Arnold reiterated his dilemma to Forrest, who looked shocked.

"Are you sure this girl could be related to Olga?" He asked in disbelief. Arnold nodded.

"Yeah, and the worst part is, she's awful to me! She's rude, nasty, obnoxious… I can't stand her."

In a flash, the smirk crept back onto Forrest's face.

"Rude, huh? And nasty? Sounds like she has a crush on you." He laughed, clearly amused. Arnold seethed.

"She does _not _have a crush on me." He protested. Forrest chuckled some more, shaking his head in the process.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," He said, shrugging as he walked towards the kitchen to grab a snack. "So when is this little rendezvous of yours?"

"Tonight." He groaned heavily, also entering the kitchen. Arnold stopped short when he glanced at the half-finished mural on the wall. It was… certainly different. Very abstract, with random shapes and colors. His grandma was staring at the wall, her finger on her chin, looking deep in thought. Her whole body was flecked with paint.

"What do you boys think?" She asked.

"Gertie, baby. It's beautiful! Not as beautiful as you, of course." Forrest playfully cajoled, taking her hand and kissing it.

"Hey, quit touching my woman," Grandpa joked as he entered the kitchen. Similar to Arnold, he stopped when he glanced at the mural.

"Oh, dear. It's… certainly your style, Pookie." He choked. Arnold couldn't help but laugh as he headed out of the kitchen.

"I better head to the restaurant now. Wish me luck," Arnold mumbled, grabbing his car keys from the hook.

"Good luck, young warrior! Knock 'em dead!" He heard his grandma shout as he exited the house. Yeah… knock 'em dead. He'd keep that one in mind.

Arnold pulled up to Chez Paris in a matter of minutes. Upon entering the restaurant, he spotted Phoebe and Gerald seated at a table and he joined them. Helga, however, was nowhere to be seen. Soon, the waiter came by to take their drink order. Afterwards, Arnold's curiosity couldn't hold any longer.

"Where's Helga?" Arnold asked, desperately hoping that she decided she wasn't coming.

"We have no clue, we called her and she hasn't ans- wait. There she is." Phoebe answered, staring beyond Arnold. In barged Helga, who wore a simple navy blue tank top, thin, black pants and her trademark Converse.

"Sorry about that, ladies and germs. I had to practically wrestle big ol' Bob to hand over the goddamn truck. Let me tell you, it was not easy." She said as she approached the table. Arnold winced as the rest of the occupants in the restaurant averted their gaze towards her. The restaurant was a relatively quiet and classy place, and in came Helga, with her loud voice and ungraceful manner. Arnold wanted to crawl under the table.

"What's good here, Pheebs?" Helga asked, picking up the menu as she shoved a piece of bread in her mouth.

"Um, the salmon here is very exquisite. And the steak as well." Phoebe timidly replied. Helga glanced over the menu quickly.

"None of those things are on here," She complained, "All of this stuff is in French!"

The idea of crawling under the table was becoming more and more appealing to Arnold.

"Bifteck is steak, and saumon is salmon." Phoebe explained.

"I don't know why they couldn't have just put that. This is America…"

Thankfully, the waiter arrived before Arnold had the chance to bash Helga's head with his bread plate.

"What would you like to order?" He asked, in a heavy French accent.

"I'll have the filet with mushrooms, please." Arnold spoke up.

"And I'll have le poulet haricots verts," Phoebe said with difficulty.

"Salmon for me, could I get some French fries on the side?" Gerald asked.

"I'll have the biff-teck with a side of your best frah-mage, please." Ordered Helga. The waiter winced at her horrible accent.

"How would you like that cooked, mademoiselle?"

"The bloodiest you can make it, pal!" She affirmed. The waiter rolled his eyes and grabbed their menus before huffing in a separate direction.

"Psh. What crawled up that guys butt and died?" Helga snorted, grabbing another piece of bread. Arnold mentally smacked his forehead.

"So Gerald, did you hear that Coach West is throwing in weekend practices this year?" Arnold inquired.

"Yeah! I don't get it. I mean, the team this year is unbeatable. Weekend practices? I might as well live on the court." Gerald said jokingly.

"Then what would I do over the weekends?" Phoebe asked innocently, pouting. Helga made a gagging noise.

Just in time, the food arrived before any further comments were made. They all dug in as soon as the plates hit the table, desperate to get out of conversation with each other. Just a few minutes into the meal, a cell phone rang from under the table. Helga groaned and answered it with an aggravated "Hello?"

A few seconds passed and her face contorted from irritated to full on mad.

"What? What do you mean I-… Yeah, but-… Oh come on, that's not fair! I told you, I'm out with Phoebe and-… Whatever. I'll be home in a few." Helga angrily shut her phone and got up.

"I have to go," She said, less heatedly. Her face was no longer irate, but… sad? That was something Arnold had never really seen. Before any of them could say before, she walked out the door.

The rest of the dinner passed by quickly, and soon, the friends were waving their farewells. Gerald dropped off Phoebe, and as soon as she got home she headed to her room to check the phone. Sure enough, Helga had called once or twice. She dialed the number and Helga answered almost immediately.

"Hey Pheebs, sorry about dinner." Helga said.

"That's all right. What happened?"

"Big Bob decided to go off the wall about how I didn't dust Olga's trophies before I left, like I was supposed to. I swear, his reasons for punishing me are getting more and more stupid. Anyways, how was the rest of dinner?"

"It was… quiet. Nice, though."

"Oh." Helga sounded slightly upset.

"Don't worry, Helga. You'll get your chance to talk to Arnold."

"Well, it's not even that, Phoebe. I _can't _talk to him. Every time I do, he ends up mad at me or something."

"Well," Phoebe began, "Maybe you could… try being nice to him?"

"But then it'd be too weird because I'm never nice to him, and he'll suspect something."

"Isn't that what you want…?"

"I don't know. I don't want to resort to that just yet. Criminy, Pheebs, how is it that I've basically been in love with this loser my whole life, yet I still haven't snagged him?"

"Don't be discouraged, Helga. We'll keep trying! Although, it is getting kind of hard to convince Gerald that I have no idea what's going on. I mean, coming up with that whole 'get Arnold to distract her' thing barely passed."

"Yeah, it's a good thing that basketball-for-brains is a little slow," Helga joked.

"Helga…"

"I was kidding! Hey, listen; I have to get moving on this dusting thing. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye!"

**A/N: Ah-hah! So now we know a little secret about Helga. I hope this chapter was better than the last (because I know the last one was sloppy) so please review! By the way, I'm not sure if you guys forgot about Forrest from the first chapter, one of the boarders that was 'like a brother' to Arnold. So, I'm sorry if that confused you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews, everyone! They have really made me want to update more often!**

The next morning, Helga awoke to the sun seeping through her window. She yawned and stretched her thin arms into the air before hopping out of the bed and slipping on her slippers. As soon as she was about to head downstairs to have a healthy breakfast of donuts and Mountain Dew, she heard a voice that almost made her want to jump right back into her bed. It giggled a high-pitched giggle and spoke with fervor and enthusiasm. As soon as she turned on one heel to make a run for her room, she was spotted.

"Baby sister!" Olga squealed, making Helga cringe. Turning around and smiling a fake, sweet smile, she padded down the steps to greet her older sister. It had been five years since she graduated college and she hadn't changed a bit. Same neatly ironed clothes, same award-winning smile, and same clear-as-day complexion. The only thing that changed was her hair, which was a tad bit longer than what Helga remembered. She felt very out of place standing next to her older sister; it was like comparing a flower to a leaf.

"Come here!" Olga wailed, reaching for Helga. She pulled her into a rather lung crushing hug before pulling back to stare at her younger, less perfect sister.

"Oh, you look so cute! The hair, when did you get that done?" She asked, looking at Helga in awe. Helga just smirked.

"What's the occasion, Olga?" She asked, in the friendliest manner she could muster (which, by the way, was not that friendly).

"Oh, well you know, I figured I haven't seen you all in so long! I mean, my apartment is only ten minutes away… why not visit once in a while?" She explained, taking a sip of coffee. Miriam and Bob looked absolutely thrilled.

"Anyways, like I was telling Mom and Dad, I met this absolutely _wonderful_ man while grabbing a quick brunch at that little café down on Mill Avenue. So charming! He was my waiter, yes, but we seemed to hit it off so well! We went on a date on Thursday, and last night! Oh, he is such a gentleman." Olga trailed on and on. Helga fought the urge to yawn.

"So, I have to ask you guys a little favor. He asked us, meaning the whole family, to come over for dinner at his place next weekend!" She squealed, looking at her family expectantly.

"The whole family meaning… me too?" Helga asked, praying that the answer was no.

"Of course you, silly!"

"Well, I don't see the harm in that," Miriam chimed in. Bob nodded, not looking too enthused.

"There's just one… minor setback. He doesn't live alone." Olga started, "He lives in a boarding house with other people."

"No way, Jose. I'm not going to- wait. Did you say boarding house?" Helga asked. Her sister nodded slowly. "Do you know the name of this boarding house?"

"I think it's… Sunset something… I don't know, it's right up the street from here, though. Close to that old, vacant lot."

Helga's face lit up in an instant. If she wasn't mistaken, that was Arnold's boarding house. Meaning, she could pretend Olga had roped her into this whole thing! It was perfect.

"I guess I could… go, if you really wanted me to." Helga said, trying her hardest to hide her excitement. Olga smiled proudly.

"Oh, Helga! Thank you!"

"Wait, wait, wait. Boarding house? What is he, homeless?" Bob bellowed, taking a large bite of his donut. Olga looked hurt.

"No, Daddy! He's just not completely on his feet yet. And from what I hear, the rest of the boarding family is just delightful! It'll be fun!"

"Whatever makes you happy, sweetie." Miriam commented dully as Bob shrugged and nodded. Another squeak elicited from Olga. She pulled her parents into a long hug.

"Thank you so much! You will just love him, I promise!"

Helga smirked slyly. She had to tell Phoebe about this. Quickly rushing out of the room, she bolted to her room and grabbed the phone.

"Pheebs, it's me. You wouldn't guess what just happened."

"What is it?"

"Apparently, Olga is dating some clown who lives in the same boarding house as Arnold, and he invited the whole family over for dinner next weekend. How perfect is that!" Helga spoke into the phone. She heard Phoebe squeal on the other line.

"Talk about perfect timing! Helga, this is it. I know you hate being nice to Arnold, but maybe if you try it, it won't be so bad." Phoebe explained.

"I don't know. I could try… but only for that night. I'll test the waters before doing a full-on cannonball, deal?"

"Deal."

Arnold, on the other hand, was not taking this as well.

"You invited them _over_?" Arnold asked Forrest, in pure disbelief.

"Yep. Oh, come on, it'll be fun!" He replied, chuckling to himself. Arnold shook his head fervently.

"You will pay for this." Arnold muttered, half-jokingly. In his mind, he knew there was at least a 50 chance Helga wouldn't come along. He knew she didn't want to see him at much as he didn't want to see her, and she never obeyed her older sister. But there was that small, aching fear that nagged at him. What would he do if she came? He dreaded the thought for two reasons: one, because they hated each other's guts. Two, because… well, the boarding family was very unique. He loved them, but the only people who truly understood them were himself and Gerald. What would they think of the mural? Or what about the odd meals served at odd hours? And God help him, if his grandma brought out the Yahtzee board…

"You look scared shitless, Arnold." Forrest laughed, clearly amused at the younger boy's discomfort. "Don't worry, it'll only be for a few hours and who knows, maybe you'll have fun." He concluded, wiggling his eyebrows before opening the door to his room and disappearing behind it.

Yeah… fun. That's exactly what Arnold had on his mind.

Fortunately for Helga, yet unfortunately for Arnold, the week seemed to pass by a lot quicker than the last. Finally, Arnold stopped being harassed by his friends, except for the sporadic eyebrow raise from Sid. What was that kid's deal, anyways?

Finally, Saturday crept up behind Arnold and pounced on him. How did the week go by so fast? At around seven, he was really starting to sweat it. He held up two shirts in front of his face and let out a thoughtful 'hmmmm'.

"Oh God, I'm just like Gerald." He mumbled to himself, throwing the shirts down and sighing. He looked fine the way he was, why was he obsessing over it? Looking in the mirror and nodding at his black and white striped tee shirt and dark blue jeans, he made his way downstairs to greet the rest of the boarders. They were all seated at the dinner table, seemingly bored.

Arnold did a quick check to make sure everything seemed normal. Oskar and Suzie were muttering things to each other, not loud enough for Arnold to hear. But from the looks of it, they were fighting. Once again. Next to Suzie was Ernie, fork and knife in hand, looking absolutely famished. Forrest was at the head of the table, looking rather nervous and fidgety. That was a first. Grandpa sat next to him, scratching his bald head as he if he had no idea what was going on, which he probably didn't. Behind them was the mural on the wall, untouched since Arnold had last saw it. It seems as if Grandma had artist's block. Speaking of Grandma…

Oh, thank God. Arnold had expected some sort of extravagant dress, knowing Grandma. But she wore a simple green skirt and white shirt. Humming to the tune of 'Yankee Doodle', she stirred the pot of… mush that would be served for dinner.

Before he had the chance to ask what was in the pot, the doorbell rang, making his stomach leap into his chest cavity.

Forrest jumped out of his chair and headed for the door.

"Who's at the door? Another one of those damn solicitors, I bet…" Grandpa mumbled as Arnold took his seat at the table. Forrest opened the door to reveal the Patakis, fake smiles on their faces along with cheery hellos. At first, Arnold didn't see Helga behind her father's gigantic frame, but sure enough, she emerged into the house behind her family. All at once, they stopped short and sniffed the air.

"What's that smell?" Bob asked.

"Oh, that's just the paint," Forrest explained as he led them to where the boarders were sitting and chatting idly. Olga looked around the house in awe, wide-eyed and all smiles as she 'oohed' and 'ahhed' at everything. Helga looked perturbed, but she wore a simple and very slight grin on her face. Miriam, as usual, was half-lidded and did not take a particular interest in anything or anyone. And Bob had his typical scowl imprinted on his face. Sometimes Helga believed that the frown was permanent.

All of the Pataki's faces changed when they entered the kitchen. Well, except Miriam's. She took her spot at the table with the rest of the boarders as they greeted the astonished family.

"What a beautiful mural! Oh, so creative!" Olga gushed as she sat next to her mother and Forrest. Helga held in a snort and Bob frowned even deeper, if possible. He was not very fond of unconventional or unusual ways of living, and, well… that was exactly what the boarding house symbolized. Diversity.

Just as everyone had settled in their seats and began introducing each other, Grandma entered the room and began serving the dinner.

"Dig in!" She exclaimed, as she spooned the mush onto everyone's plates.

"What is this, Pookie?" Grandpa asked while smelling the concoction that sat in front of him.

"Stew!" She said as she sat down at the other head of the table. Everyone took a bite apprehensively, but they were all relieved when they found it to be quite good. It was then that Arnold, sitting across from Helga, noticed her staring at him. He cocked his head to the side and gave her an inquiring look, causing her to freeze.

_Think 'nice', Helga ol' girl. You can do it._

Frowning at him and looking back down at her food, she cursed herself. Why was it so hard to be nice to him? One simple grin would have done, but no.

"So, Forrest, where did you meet this beautiful young lady?" Ernie asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Olga giggled hysterically.

"She came by the restaurant a little more than a week ago, and, well… how could I resist?" He cajoled, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Out of the corner of Arnold's eye, he could see Suzie whisper something that sounded like "See? Even Forrest knows how to treat a woman!" However, Arnold didn't hear Oskar's reply.

"Oh, he's just being nice!" Olga said, still giggling. Helga resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Bob and Miriam both took gulps of their wine.

"So, what's with the… wall painting?" Bob asked, being as polite as he could. Grandma smirked.

"It has always been my dream to flourish my house with my own paintings. Although I can't quite think of how to finish it… I might add a splash of bright purple to the corners there."

Bob nodded slowly. He couldn't think of anything to say. After all, the man was not an expert on art.

"Oh, that's so precious!" Olga gushed, "I wish I had that kind of talent!"

Now it was the whole table's turn to roll their eyes.

"So what is it that you said you did for a living again, Bob?" Ernie asked, shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth and washing it down with wine.

"I run a cell phone emporium. The one on Golden Lane and 32nd street," Bob replied.

"No kidding! You own that place?" Ernie asked, while shaking his spoon at Bob, "Top notch, Bob-o. Been there once or twice myself!"

The rest of the boarders stared in utter boredom as the two discussed business and the like. The boarders did not neglect to notice Miriam polishing off her second wine glass and grabbing the bottle for some more. Out of the blue, a sly smile erupted on Grandma's face.

"Who's up for a game of Yahtzee?" She asked the table. Arnold's eyes grew wide. The Pataki's all shrugged in agreement. Just moments later, Grandma reappeared with the game in her feeble hands. She set it up and briefly explained it to refresh some memories before the game started.

"Come on, baby, give me something good!" Grandma yelled, shaking the dice vigorously in her hands. Arnold grew red as Helga chuckled to herself. Throwing the dice onto the table, she got two 3s, two 4s, and a 2. Grabbing the two, she started her routine all over again.

"Give me a full house! Full house!" She yelled, throwing the die. Sure enough, a four showed up. "Yes!"

Passing the cup to Forrest, he grabbed the dice briskly and shook them above his head, causing some giggles from Olga and, surprisingly, her mother. Who seemed pretty 'off her rocker' by this point. Forrest got a straight, and passed it over to Olga, who passed it to Bob, who passed it to Miriam.

"Show me a Yahtzee…!" She shouted. Helga's eyes bulged at her mother, who was tipping over to one side a bit. She threw the dice and giggled when she got a there of a kind. The game proceeded in this fashion for at least a few more rounds. Shouts elicited from Grandma, Forrest, and Miriam, the most enthusiastic players of the game. Arnold was shocked.

A few turns later, they were on Olga. She shook the dice forcefully in her hand and rolled. Four 4s.

"You can do it, baby!" Forrest cheered her on. Throwing the last die, a four showed face up.

"Yahtzee! Yahtzee!" She shrieked, wrapping her arms around Forrest who pecked her forehead lovingly.

"See, Oskar, look at that! Why don't you do that anymore? You never do anything romantic for me." Suzie sharply whispered to her husband. He sighed.

"Suzie, they're young! Everything is new to them now. Trust me, they'll be sick of each other soon enough, eh heh!" Oskar replied, not very quietly.

"So is that what you think? Because we're older and we've had a longer relationship that we're sick of each other? Is that why you don't do anything romantic for me anymore? Ugh!"

"No, I didn't say that. Now you're just blowing things out of proportion! Let's just quit this argument. Now can you get me a pickle from the fridge? I'm still hungry, eh heh heh!"

By this time, it was Helga's turn. But no one was paying attention to the game anymore, and it was almost completely silent except for the sound of Miriam hiccupping.

"The fridge is two feet that way!" Suzie thrust her finger towards the fridge, "Get it yourself!"

"But you're closer…" Oskar whined.

"Guys, please!" Arnold intervened, "These fights are getting more and more ridiculous, and you guys know that what has been said isn't true. All right? So please, no more fighting, we have guests over and it is quite rude."

The bickering couple looked over at Arnold, who hadn't said more than a sentence all night, and then their faces softened. Oskar leaned in and gave Suzie a big kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, Oskar!" She swooned, taking his hand and intertwining her fingers with his. He grinned.

"Now, about that pickle… eh heh!"

Suzie didn't react, instead she just rolled her eyes and the game continued. After a few more minutes of mayhem screaming, Arnold stood quietly from the table and tiptoed away. His head ached and it throbbed with every word that was spoken. He had to leave for at least a bit. Wandering about the hallway, he decided on splashing his face with water in the bathroom sink.

Turning on the cool tap, he let his hands sit in the sink for a few moments before taking a handful of water and dunking his face in it. He was right, it did feel good. Just then he heard footsteps outside of the bathroom. He peeked outside of the doorway and saw Helga wandering around, looking somewhat lost. Turning off the tap, he emerged into the hallway.

"Oh, hey Helga," He stated, as nonchalantly as he could muster.

"Hi, Arnold."

Arnold didn't neglect to notice that she didn't call him one of those insufferable nicknames. Awkwardly, they stood for a few seconds before someone (who sounded an awful lot like Bob) shouted 'Yahtzee!' The two choked out a laugh.

"It's pretty crazy back there, huh? I've got a headache from all the yelling," Helga commented. Arnold waited for the punch line, the insult, the rude comment. But she said nothing else.

"Yeah, same here." He replied, scratching the back of his head.

"And what did I tell you about Miriam getting drunk? Talk about hilarious."

Arnold was beginning to wonder if Helga had had some wine herself. She was never this civil.

"I noticed. Well, anyways, if you want some Advil for the headache or something, I can grab you some."

"Sure," She answered. With that, he disappeared, wondering what had gotten into her. Meanwhile, Helga was sweating bullets waiting for his return. She had been doing so well with the whole 'being nice' thing! Phoebe would be proud. But she had no idea how long she could keep it up. It almost hurt to not add 'football head' to the end of her sentences, or give some sort of snide remark. After a few moments of pep talk, Helga spotted Arnold turning into the corridor with a bottle of Advil and some water.

"Here," He said, placing the bottle in her hands. It was silent as he watched her down two pills in one gulp of water and screw the cap back on.

"Thanks, Arnoldo. I'm going to head back to the dining room," She said, before turning around and walking back to the room. He followed behind her, smiling a tiny bit as he did.

Maybe she wasn't so mean after all?

**A/N: Ah, I'm really sorry about the sloppiness of this chapter. Although I am not completely satisfied with the outcome of the chapter, I hope that it was still enjoyable! Let me know what you thought!**

**P.S. Hellerick Ferlibay – I might just take that idea of Helga helping out Arnold's grandma with the mural. It sounds like it'd be a cute scene! Thanks for the idea!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Ah, I had promised myself that I would update my new HA! fanfiction before this next chapter, but I just couldn't help myself! I love this story and writing it is a lot of fun, so I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Helga smiled as she headed out of the boarding house and into the front seat of the car. Her parents trailed behind her, bumbling and mumbling like idiots before crawling into the car. Olga was still in the doorway, saying goodbye for the sixth time, and kissing Forrest for the millionth. Having had a few glasses of wine herself, Olga insisted on Helga driving. Helga sighed, turning on the car while commending herself over and over again for pulling off the whole 'be nice' thing so well.

Luckily, they made it home alive, for Helga's eyelids were definitely threatening to close on her. Before the two sisters helped their parents into the door, (with much difficulty, I might add), Helga trotted upstairs and flung herself into her bed. For once, she would go to bed happy.

Back at the boarding house, Arnold was stuck washing the many dishes that were left at the table. Forrest sat at the table, drunkenly rambling to Arnold.

"That Olga, she's… something, ain't she? Damn…" He muttered, resting his head on the table. "Her sister isn't too bad, either. I have no clue why you said she was sho… so mean to you, you know?"

Arnold chuckled to himself. Forrest sounded like a moron.

"You were actually right. She was a lot nicer to me than usual tonight, and I have to admit… I had fun."

Forrest snickered uncontrollably.

"That's the spirit, Arnold!" He shouted, pointing a finger at the boy before falling out of his chair.

"You should probably go to bed," Arnold advised, helping him up. Forrest mumbled something incoherent and staggered up the stairs, tripping only once or twice. Arnold sighed and laughed as he returned to the dishes.

Helga awoke the next morning and almost immediately grabbed the telephone next to her bed. She dialed Phoebe's number and anxiously waited for her friend to pick up.

"Hello?" Came Phoebe's timid voice.

"Pheebs, it's me. You won't even be able to guess how great my night went!" Helga said excitedly.

"What happened?"

"Well, the night itself was pretty bizarre. The food was weird, all the adults were drunk and we played Yahtzee for a good hour and a half. Oh, and the boarders are pretty… unusual, I guess. Talk about a mad house. But the best part of the night was towards the end!"

"What was it?"

"I did it! I, Helga G. Patacki, was actually _nice _to the football head! And he was nice back! Oh God, you should have seen it. We had a conversation, Phoebe!"

"What was it about?" Phoebe questioned, her voice full of inquisitiveness.

"Something about medicine and Miriam being drunk, I don't really know the exact words, but I don't care! A _conversation_… a polite and civil conversation. I could just die."

Phoebe squealed on the other end.

"Oh, Helga! This is perfect! I knew that idea would work."

"But wait," Helga began, "… What do I do now?"

Phoebe grew silent on the other end.

"I don't know… It's getting harder for me to convince Gerald about the whole date thing. I think he's catching on to me. There has got to be some way to get you two to hang out with each other…"

"Well, it can't involve money. At least, a lot of money. I'm still broke from buying those Steel Cage match tickets for Arnold and I."

"What about the Fall Formal in late October? That sounds fun." Phoebe suggested.

"That's pretty far from now. I'm thinking more of… within the next few weeks? Plus, I don't want to get all… formal on him. Too much too soon. Hmm…"

"Oh! What about the school fundraiser next Friday? They want to set up a carnival at the YMAA gym with set up booths and the like. I hear a lot of the proceeds go to the basketball team, so I'm sure Arnold will be there! I think it sounds splendid! And you can spend time with Arnold without seeming conspicuous."

"Me? At a _fundraiser_? There is no way I'm going to run some stupid booth at a carnival."

* * *

"I can't believe I'm going to run some stupid booth at a carnival." Helga complained as her and Phoebe stood in line to sign up for a stand on Monday morning. Phoebe grinned widely and looked up at her best friend.

"This will be a good way to maybe talk more with you-know-who!" She whispered happily. Helga rolled her eyes in discontent.

"Whatever you say, Pheebs." She mumbled as they approached the sign up sheet. Phoebe ran her finger of the paper, reading the remaining booths that could be signed up for. Each booth had two to three name slots.

"Ring toss, face painting, cotton candy machine…" She read. Suddenly, her teal eyes lit up with humor, "Kissing booth…" She chuckled lightly.

"No way, Jose. What are you, crazy?" Helga angrily said.

"But look who's signed up for it already," Phoebe answered slyly, pointing one blue polished fingernail to the paper. Sure enough, there was the word _Arnold _… The last name seemed to be illegible.

"But that means I have to… touch other people's mouths." Helga said, clearly disgusted.

"Do you want to spend more time with Arnold or not?" Phoebe asked impatiently.

"Okay, okay. Fine."

Phoebe chuckled and neatly printed Helga's name in the slot provided. Phoebe herself signed up for face painting and they happily made their way to English.

"All right, settle down class!" Mr. Simmons exclaimed, as everyone filed into the classroom and took their seats. Helga's heart fluttered when she got a sight of Arnold. He caught her eye for a millisecond, but looked away quickly. Well, it was better than nothing.

"Today we are going to act the last few scenes of The Crucible! Okay Eugene, Sheena, come up here and act out Scene three, where John Proctor and his wife are discussing…"

Helga's eyes averted back to Arnold. His head rested on his hand and he stared intently Eugene and Sheena, listening to them ramble on and on about some witch trial mumbo-jumbo and all that nonsense. Helga sighed inwardly and let her mind wander.

It was Friday night at the YMAA, and the whole gym was adorned with lights and streamers. It was a beautiful sight, with decorations galore. The booths were festive and were spread throughout the gym. Wandering about, Helga finally spotted the large, pink sign that read 'Kissing Booth! 50 cents per kiss!' and headed over to it. People had already begun lining up for the booth. There, she found Arnold, spraying some 'Germ-B-Gone Breath Spray' into his mouth.

"_Arnold!" She exclaimed, quickening her pace to a slight jog. He spotted her, and immediately his eyes lit up and a seductive smile crept onto his face. _

"_Helga, my dear!" He said sweetly as she approached him. The customers in line looked at the couple with intrigue. He took her into his arms when she arrived and vividly leaned her backwards. She sighed and leaned her head backwards dramatically._

"_Oh, Arnold!"_

_He smiled sweetly and leaned down to place a ravishing kiss upon her lips. The crowd waiting in line began complaining outwardly._

"_Hey, we were here first!"_

_Arnold ignored the pleading crowd and took her lips in his as he leaned her farther and farther down. Helga could hear the choir of angels singing in the heavens. _

_More angry shouts elicited from the people in line, but the couple didn't care. Breaking the kiss, he looked down at her with a grin and brought her back to a standing position. _

"_Helga," He said softly, looking into her eyes intently. She nodded._

"Helga."

"Helga!"

"Huh, what?" She shook out of her daze and looked at Phoebe. The rest of the class snickered as they filed out of the room.

"The bell rang," She said with a grin. Helga mentally smacked her forehead as she gathered her things and headed into the hallway with her best friend.

"Another Arnold daydream, huh?" Phoebe asked as they approached their lockers.

"Yeah. This time it was the whole 'dramatic dip kiss' in front of a crowd of people." Helga explained, gathering her books for her next class. Phoebe giggled.

"I'll see you at lunch, Helga," She waved and headed in a separate direction. Helga muttered a goodbye before huffing to her next class.

The week seemed to pass by slower than a snail trying to get through a trail of peanut butter. Helga almost felt like tearing her hair out every morning she woke up after a long, pleasant dream about Friday evening. And finally, the long awaited day crept around the corner. Helga had never been so relieved.

Just five minutes before Helga was required to be at the YMAA gym, she looked into the mirror and raised one eyebrow. She cleaned up pretty nicely.

She straightened her half-blonde, half-black hair and slipped a bobby pin on the side of her head to keep her bangs in place. She wore a long, low cut navy blue tank top and thin jeans with black sandals to match. As she grabbed her keys and began to head out the door, she stopped short. Rushing to the restroom, she grabbed a bottle of 'Germ-B-Gone Breath Spray' off the counter and sprayed mouth twice. She was ready.

When she arrived, the scenery wasn't quite what she had imagined. The YMAA was pretty rundown, and it had been since they were freshmen. But compared to how it used to look, the carnival committee had cleaned up pretty nicely. Lights were strung from the ceiling, and handmade signs were plastered to the ruddy walls. The booths were set up randomly along the gym floor. The dunk tank, the hot dog and popcorn stand, the ring toss… and there it was. The kissing booth.

A small, pink sign was hung from the booth that read 'Kisses for 50 cents!' and Helga spotted Arnold behind the booth, looking rather bored. The carnival hadn't started yet, and from the looks of it, he had been on the committee to set up everything. Puffing out her chest, she marched over to the booth, trying to muster up a teensy bit of confidence on the way there.

"Helga?" He asked. "You're doing the Kissing Booth too?"

"Don't sound so surprised, footba- Arnold." She replied stiffly, taking a spot next to him in the booth.

No choir of angels sang from the heavens. Helga sighed angrily.

"Oh, well it's just that I wouldn't have expected you to be here," He quickly added, scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah, well, Phoebe roped me into it." Helga said, picking at a fingernail. Arnold chuckled awkwardly.

"Yeah, Coach West signed me up against my will, basically." He muttered in a low tone. Helga grunted empathetically. A silence engulfed the air and Helga noticed that people were lining up. And then it hit her.

The only reason she was so reluctant to sign up for the kissing booth was because Arnold would be her partner. Then she realized that she actually had to _kiss_ other people. As in, touch their grubby, little mouths. She paled instantly.

"Are you okay? You don't look so good," Arnold asked her.

"I'm _fine_, Arnoldo." She replied angrily. Before she could catch herself, Arnold's basketball coach approached the two. He was tall, and big too, with thinning brown hair with hints of gray. He wore a black tracksuit and a baseball hat. Why was it that coaches always wore sporty clothes outside of school? Were they constantly working out?

"Arnold! You look sharp, my boy." Coach West exclaimed jovially, patting Arnold on the shoulder. He did look good, Helga concluded. Simple, but good. Plain, navy blue v-neck (coincidentally the same color as Helga's…) and black pants. She also smelled a hint of cologne floating around his body, which smelled damn good. Her eyelids fluttered.

"Who is this young lady?" Coach West asked, pointing at Helga.

"Oh, this is Helga." Arnold introduced her. Coach West smiled and stuck out a hand. She shook it, uninterested.

"Nice to meet you," She muttered.

"All right, you two, the booths are all now officially open so… pucker up!" He said jokingly before heading in a separate direction. Helga gulped.

Slowly, the crowd formed two lines, one for the girls and one for the guys. The first boy in line was a seemingly attractive boy, somewhat shorter than Helga. Probably a freshman, Helga decided. Depositing two quarters into the jar on the stand, he leaned in. She looked over at Arnold, who was looking at her as well. In front of him was a girl with black hair, a snaggletooth, and a lip ring. Arnold looked like he was pleading for help, but there wasn't much either of them could do. Shrugging, they turned back to their waiting partners and 'puckered up', as Coach West put it.

Luckily for the both of them, the kisses were short pecks. Arnold was relieved that he didn't have to come into close contact with the lip ring. Helga chuckled at the struggling expression on Arnold's face. He made a face at her and playfully stuck out his tongue before the next two in line stepped up to the front.

This same cycle continued for about ten more minutes, until Helga was shocked to see who was in line next. Brainy.

Mouth full of braces, he smiled shyly as he stepped forward. Helga gulped. From the looks of it, he hadn't changed much in his sixteen years of living. Same flesh-colored hair, small glasses, and sinus problem, which caused him to breath heavily.

"Uh… hi." He said under his breath, looking at Helga with adoring eyes. Now it was Arnold's turn to laugh. Brainy clumsily deposited the fifty cents into the jar and leaned in tentatively.

"Here goes nothing," Helga whispered so only Arnold could here. This caused him to laugh even harder. She leaned in slowly, and planted her lips on his for a quick moment, and pulled away gradually. But Brainy wasn't going down without a fight.

He leaned forward even more, crashing lips with her once again, causing Helga's eyes to widen. What in the world was he doing? Luckily, she felt him pull back abruptly.

"I'm sorry, but only one kiss per person," Arnold cut in, his hand on Brainy's chest. The boy sighed and left the line quickly. Helga was still in shock from the kiss.

"Thank you," She said gratefully. Arnold shrugged.

"You looked like you needed the help," He replied, averting his attention back towards the waiting customers. Helga felt her heart flutter in her chest as she followed his motion and turned her attention back to the crowd.

After a few more people, Helga began to become apathetic about the whole thing. She didn't exactly pay attention to who she was kissing, for how long, etc. She looked around at the other booths, thankful that the kissing booth was smack dab in the middle of everything.

In the distance, she spotted Phoebe painting a small child's face, next to the dunk tank where Rhonda Lloyd sat on the dunk seat. She wore a yellow polka dot bikini, and from the looks of it, she hadn't been dunked yet. And of course, wherever Rhonda was, Curly was pretty close by. He collected the money from kids who tried desperately to soak Rhonda. Every few seconds, Helga caught him waving daintily at her, who, in return, scoffed and looked in a separate direction. Harold and Stinky stood behind one of the food stands, with mustard and ketchup all over their white aprons. It looks as if they had a condiment fight. Looking in the other direction, she caught a glimpse of Sid and Gerald manning the ring toss booth, looking bored out of their minds. These observations continued for just a few more moments before Helga became bored and averted her attention back to her 'job'.

The night was long. Well, long was a rather large understatement. Both Helga and Arnold had red, chapped lips and sullen expressions on their faces. Who knew how many diseases they had contracted in those few hours? The rest of the gang dragged their limp bodies about the YMAA gym, tearing down posters and booths.

Helga felt bad for the suckers who had to stay around. Hopping into her truck, she zoomed home and ran up the stairs to apply some lip balm onto her mouth, before hopping into bed.

She had stepped one step closer to winning over Arnold. Now, she would need the perfect plan to keep everything going smoothly.

**A/N: So? What do you think? Let me know!**


	8. Chapter 8

Unfortunately for Helga, Hillwood High didn't seem to be organizing any more extremely convenient and somewhat bearable activities. Unless you counted the Hillwood Campfire Lass (yes, that wretched organization still existed, even in high school) car wash fundraiser as somewhat bearable, which Helga most certainly did not, then she was in a bit of a rut. The only other option was the Fall Formal, even if it was a month away.

"Come on, Helga. It can't be that bad… you don't even have to dress up that much." Phoebe tried to convince her as they sipped on milkshakes at the ice cream parlor.

"I'm not even that worried about the dressing up, Pheebs. It's… everything else. Asking him, dancing, Rhonda's party afterwards… you know, the whole 'school dance' experience. It's not for me."

"Oh, please. You signed up for that kissing booth two weeks ago, I'm pretty sure you can go to a school dance."

"I signed up for that kissing booth? It was your idea!"

"Well… you went along with it. My point is, it won't be that bad. And plus, you have a month to mentally prepare yourself. No big deal, right?"

Helga sighed, defeated.

"Right."

But it was a big deal. Helga neglected to emphasize to Phoebe about her extreme fear of dancing. This wasn't middle school anymore, with the whole 'you must stand a foot away from everyone else' rule. No, in high school, dances weren't really dances. They were more like major, sweaty, freakish orgies where people bump and grind on everyone they come into contact with. Helga felt dizzy just thinking about it.

She had only been to one or two school dances before, but she had become so used to standing on the outskirts of the dancing crowd, awkwardly moving from side to side with Phoebe and poking fun at the other dancers. And now she would have actually dance?

"Oh, I have to go. Cello lessons! I'll see you tomorrow," Phoebe said quickly, finishing off her vanilla shake and dumping it into the trash. Helga half-heartedly waved and went back to her morbid thoughts.

At the same time, Arnold and Gerald were sitting in Arnold's room, conversing about the dance as well.

"Ah, I can't wait, man! It'll be great, especially seeing Phoebe all dressed up." Gerald said dreamily as he flopped onto Arnold's bed.

"Good for you. I don't who I'm going to go with." Arnold replied bitterly, sitting in his computer chair and swiveling around in it.

"What about Lila?" Gerald asked, "I know you guys had a 'thing' in middle school that ended badly and all, but that was like, four years ago. You could give it another go?"

"Nah. She's dating Stinky now… oddly enough."

Gerald made a face as he picked at a piece of peeling wallpaper.

"That's just weird." He commented, "Okay, screw that plan. What about that new Russian girl Darcy? She's kind of cute."

"I heard she was a spy," Arnold said thoughtfully, swiveling around in his chair some more. Gerald wrinkled his brow.

"Who told you that?"

"Sid… but that's besides the point. I would ask her, if I could understand her. She barely speaks English."

"Okay, how about Gloria?"

"Didn't you hear? She's like… a major pot addict." Arnold replied, reclining backwards in his chair.

"You are making this hard on me, man." Gerald said, clearly exasperated. He sat up on the bed and crossed his legs Indian-style.

"How? Because I refuse to go to the dance with a taken girl, a girl I can't understand, or a pot head?" Arnold asked his friend, who was standing up from the bed and walking over to his bookcase. Pulling out a yearbook, he flipped through it.

"All right, then. How about Rhonda?"

After a pause, the two burst out laughing.

"Okay, okay, not Rhonda." Gerald said, still chuckling, "How about Sheena? Oh wait, she's dating Lorenzo. Hm… Nadine?"

"Don't you remember ninth grade? When Rhonda set Nadine and I up? It was awful… I can't ask her. Next?"

Gerald sighed, flipping through the pages.

"… Helga?"

Arnold opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped. Truth be told, Arnold couldn't really think of anything to refute. So instead he just started to talk, hoping some reason would pop into his head before Gerald got suspicious.

"Well, you know… it'd be weird 'cause we don't really get along and… we just, um, we don't click well… and, uh, she's best friends with Phoebe, so she'd take time away from you and Phoebe… dancing and stuff." Arnold babbled, not sure exactly where he was going with this. Gerald grinned spryly.

"Yeah, that was convincing. Dude, you guys _did _run the kissing booth together…"

"So? We barely talked!" Arnold protested.

"Meaning she didn't yell at you? Or call you mean names?"

"Well, no… but still." Arnold replied, trying to sound confident in his answer. But it was not very convincing.

"You're in denial, man."

Arnold scratched the back of his head nervously. Gerald was right, she hadn't yelled at him that night. And come to think of it, she hadn't yelled at him the night her family came for dinner, either.

"Don't you have homework to do, or something?" Arnold asked Gerald, who merely kept smirking.

"Whatever. Think about it, Arnold. I know you'll do the right thing." Gerald said ominously, exiting his room with a wave. Arnold flopped down onto his bed and sighed heavily. He wanted to do the right thing, but _what _was the right thing? Or more importantly, who?

Two weeks passed quicker than possible, and Helga still didn't have any solution to her 'bump-and-grindaphobia'. She felt completely doomed.

"I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes, Pheebs, first Bob wants me to grab some milk at the store. Then we can head for the movie." Helga said into her cell phone as she hopped into the car that Bob so graciously let her borrow.

"Can you just pick me up now? I'll go to the store with you. I just can't tolerate being in this house with my mother's relatives anymore! They're asking me to come sing karaoke with them!" Phoebe said into the phone, clearly terrified. Helga laughed.

"Sure, I'll be there in a few."

In the store, the two walked aimlessly down the aisles, searching for the right kind of milk. 'Organic Lowfat' was the kind that Bob told her. And no, it wasn't for him. Olga protested that she needed some, and that the grocery store by her house didn't sell it anymore.

"Phoebe, I have a bit of a problem." Helga said gravely as they searched for the milk.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Well, it's about the dance…" Helga replied nervously, "I have something to confess."

"Go on…" Phoebe urged her, clearly intrigued.

"This is hard for me, I don't tell this to anyone and everyone, you know. It's just the whole… _dancing _part of it. I… can't."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, I can't dance." Helga replied angrily as she spotted the carton of Organic Lowfat milk. Grabbing it, they began to walk back to the aisle, until someone grabbed Helga's shoulder from behind. She whirled around to see… Arnold's grandma?

"Uh, hello?" Helga said, clearly confused.

"Can't dance, huh?" Grandma asked in an oddly secretive tone. Helga didn't respond, she just looked at the old woman like she was nuts.

"I can teach you to dance, young lady. You're one of Arnold's little friends, right?"

"Yes," Helga piped up, "But I don't really need help-"

"Nonsense!" Grandma cut her off, a jovial expression on her face. "You should come by the boarding house and I'll teach you a move or two! What do you need to learn, the samba? The swing? The cha-cha?"

Helga just shook her head, still not exactly sure what to say.

"How about this. You come on by this Sunday and I'll show you how to _really _dance!" She exclaimed. Helga gulped.

"Listen, I appreciate the offer and everything, but-"

"She'd love to!" Phoebe cut in, jabbing Helga in the elbow. She stared at her shorter friend in bewilderment. Grandma squealed.

"Perfect! Sunday, at five it is then!"

Helga smirked weakly and muttered a goodbye, wondering if there was any way to get out of this arrangement. As soon as the old woman was out of hearing range, Helga turned to Phoebe, fuming.

"What was that for? I don't need some old lady to teach me how to _dance_! Especially in Arnold's house!" Helga yelled.

"But I thought you wanted to spend more time with Arnold? What better way than to be in his own house?" Phoebe asked innocently.

"Yeah but I'll be…dancing! That's so awkward."

"Maybe so, but you need to try thinking of it a different way! You can talk to him in between breaks or something, it's better than daydreaming about talking to him, right?"

"Whatever you say, Phoebe. You know, I remember a time when my best friend _didn't _interfere with my personal affairs. Where did that Phoebe go?" Helga asked, jokingly of course. Phoebe chuckled.

"Trust me, Helga. You'll be glad that the new, life-meddling Phoebe got a hold of you!"

**A/N: I'm so sorry that this is late, and short. I've been so swamped with schoolwork, and I couldn't find a good place to stop as I continued. So I hope this was at least average! Let me know what you think.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I hope this update didn't take too long!**

Helga glanced down at her watch, almost afraid of what it would read.

"Damn it," She muttered to herself when she saw the little digital numbers read 4:50 PM. That means her dance lesson was in ten minutes.

She tried to stall as long as she could for that last hour. She figured that maybe getting herself into some long, involved chore would get her out of this whole dance lesson thing. So, she wandered around the house, trying to think of something to do that would take more than an hour. But the house was, surprisingly, spotless.

Ever since Olga visited, the house was completely clean. No stains on Bob's favorite chair, no food left on the table, no counter left undusted. Helga wondered about her obsession cleanliness, but not as much as she wondered why the hell she hadn't left yet. Probably because being at home meant she didn't have to pay for her own food. Or maybe because she wanted to be close to Forrest.

Helga didn't care the reason, but she was bothered by the fact that she hadn't left yet. Especially at a time like this, when she needed some excuse to not go to those lessons. In sheer desperate measures, she timidly approached Bob.

"Hey, dad? Do you, uh, have any weekend chores you need done?" She asked in an odd tone, never having actually _wanted _to do chores. Bob looked at her like she had just morphed into a dancing banana on roller skates.

"… What?"

Helga frowned and tapped her foot impatiently.

"You heard me." She replied.

"Uh, no Helga. None for this weekend." He stated, still wary about his daughter's mental state.

"No lawn to mow? No hedges to trim? You don't need me to pull any weeds in the front yard?" She asked, clearly begging now.

"Olga did all that. What has gotten into you?" He asked harshly. She sighed.

"Never mind."

Sulking away, she then realized that it was inevitable. She would be showing up at Arnold's house at five, and there was no turning back.

And so there she was, meagerly standing on the stoop of the boarding house, looking up at the rusted 'No Kids, Pets OK' sign and wishing she could disappear. Just melt into the ground. Or better yet, skip the country, dye her hair, gain fifty pounds, and live under the name of Fifi Dahl, yes… that would work perfectly…

Helga's thoughts were interrupted by the large door before her opening to reveal Grandma, who was grinning oddly.

"Hello, young grasshopper. Come in, come in." Grandma greeted her with a soft voice, stepping aside to let Helga in. She furrowed her brow with confusion, wondering why the old lady called her grasshopper, but stepped into the warm house anyways.

As soon as she entered, she could smell the paint that reeked from the kitchen walls. Holding her breath, she followed the staggering woman to a room down the hallway in which her and Arnold had a civil conversation. Helga quickly dashed into the room, careful not to be seen by her cornflower-haired crush.

"All right, young one, I understand you are here to master the art of dancing, are you not?" Grandma asked her, in that same calm voice as before.

"Um, not really to master it…" Helga muttered, clearly freaked out over the senile lady's behavior. With skeptical eyes, Grandma looked at her and shrugged.

"What first, then? Salsa? Cha-cha? Rumba?"

Helga's mind whirled at these terms. She had no clue what these forms of dance were, but they all seemed far from what she would need to know for the school dance. Shrugging at the old woman, she then took the time to actually look around the room in which she resided. There was a small desk in the corner with a vase holding a wilted flower on it, next to that was a rocking chair. On one wall, there were a series of paintings, all seemingly created by Grandma, seeing as they correlated with the mural in the kitchen.

And then there was a bookshelf on the opposite wall. A small one, but there were tons of books crammed into the small space. Helga strained to read some of the titles, but the only one she was able to make out was in Spanish. Odd.

"How about the salsa? Fun, energetic, simple enough…" Grandma asked, seemingly talking to herself. Helga stood awkwardly, still glancing around the room, waiting for her to make up her mind.

"Salsa it is!" Grandma shouted happily, "Arrrrrrriba!"

Helga could have smacked her forehead right there, but she refrained. Instead, she gave a fake grin and felt the urge to melt into the floor once again. _Come on, Helga, ol' girl. Concentrate. If you try hard enough, I'm sure you can just seep through the cracks of the floorboards and disappear…_

"Oh, but I don't know the male counterpart for the salsa…" Grandma interrupted her thoughts. Helga could almost breath a sigh of relief, before she was cut off. "I know! I'll get one of the boys to do it."

Paling instantly, she could almost feel her world shattering into a million pieces. Knowing her luck, Grandma would call down Arnold to be her 'male counterpart', and everything would go downhill from there. No doubt, he would ask her why she was taking dance lessons in the first place, and then he would probably tell Gerald. Who would tell Stinky, who would tell Sid, who would most definitely tell Rhonda. And then it would spread like wildfire. Helga saw all of this happen before her eyes until she heard something wonderful.

"Phil!" She called out into the hallway. Almost bursting into tears of happiness, Helga released the breath she had been holding. A sly smile crept onto her face. Maybe this whole thing wouldn't be a living hell after all. She only needed to survive an hour and a half of this torment, and then she could go home and pretend it never happened. Easy as cake.

Grandpa staggered into the room, furrowing his brow at his wife in contemplation. Helga felt somewhat sorry for the old man, always dealing with Grandma's antics.

"What is it, Pookie?" He asked her, scratching the back of his lumpy, bald head.

"I need you for a moment. I'm teaching this young lady to salsa!" She exclaimed, a semi-toothless smile emerging. Grandpa sighed and entered the room completely before (thankfully) shutting the door behind him.

"Oh, it's you, Hilda!" He greeted her happily. Helga cocked her head to the side in confusion. Hilda?

"Um, it's He-"

"Let's start!" Grandma cut her off, grabbing an old, rusty boom box from the corner of the room and placing it on the table.

Helga then tensed a little bit, suddenly realizing that she would have to dance with this old man. Before she knew what was happening, she and Grandpa assumed the correct position, and the Latin music began flowing from the radio.

"Okay, so you're going to step forward with that foot there," Grandma instructed her, pointing at her right foot. She nodded and obeyed. As she stepped forward, Grandpa's foot stepped backwards in sync with hers. And then it was repeated with each foot in each direction. Simple enough. Except, unfortunately for Helga, she had no rhythm whatsoever.

Grandma turned on the song for at least the 6th time in the past fifteen minutes, almost sighing as she did so.

"Five, six, seven, eight, right foot! Back! Left foot! Back! Good, now turn! No, no, no, no, no." Grandma shouted above the Latin beat. Helga sighed, her feet jumbling below her. She could get the steps, just not the turning.

"Ow, my hip," Grandpa complained, gripping his left hip painfully. "Can I sit out now, Pookie?"

Grandma sighed in defeat. Helga wondered if that meant she could go or not, but unfortunately for her, Grandma had other plans up her sleeve.

"You are dismissed." Grandma replied, bowing her head. Helga still couldn't shake the weird tendencies of that woman. "We'll just grab her another partner."

Again, Helga could feel her stomach rise into her throat and her heart speed up. For the third time that day, she felt the desire to liquefy. Grandma poked her head out of the room and hollered,

"Arnold!"

Helga's whole body tensed. Her worst nightmare was coming true. She could hear his feet padding down the steps to his room, down the hallway… closer… closer….

Her heart hammered in her chest. Scrambling to fix her mien, she combed through her matted hair as vigorously as she could, and straightened out her old clothes. She stared down at what she was wearing and wanted to mentally slap herself. Why was it that she had no cute work out clothes? She just happened to be wearing an old camp shirt that read 'Camp Lakeshore, Friends Forever!"

Seriously. Could she have picked a dumber shirt?

Her pants were old as well. Hell, they were her _mother's_. She groaned inwardly and looked up at the door, which was now creaking open slowly. Her heart was about ready to jump out of her throat and make a run for the window, until she saw who it was that opened the door.

"Hey, Gertie, Arnold sent me to tell you that he's really swamped in homework." Forrest appeared in the doorway, leaning against in casually. When he noticed Helga, he looked about as confused as she was.

"Oh, phooey." Grandma replied, but then she brightened up once again. "Why don't you help us, Forrest?"

Forrest squinted his eyes thoughtfully, looking from Grandma, to Helga, to the boom box in the corner. Cautiously, he stepped in.

"Uh, sure, anything to help Olga's sister." He commented suavely. Helga fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Perfect! All right, do you remember when I taught you to salsa when you wanted to impress that Latina girl at the club down the street?" Grandma asked him.

Forrest immediately seemed to blush and scratch the back of his head.

"Yes… I remember." He replied, still seemingly confused on the whole situation.

"Well, this young lady needs to learn how to dance!"

Now it was Helga's turn to feel embarrassed. Bowing down her head, she stared down at her bare feet and dark blue toenails. She made a mental note to scream at Phoebe when she got to school tomorrow.

"Oh, okay." He replied simply, stepping into the room more fully and closing the door. Grandma clapped in delight.

Again, Helga was faced with the humiliation of having to dance with an individual she didn't particularly want to dance with. Red in the face, they assumed the position and Grandma started the music once again.

Yelling out cues, Helga struggled to keep up with Forrest's crisp movements. Again, she looked down at her feet, which were tangled in every which direction. _Let's face it, _she thought, _I have two left feet._

"Hey, it's not that big of a deal. You just have to let it flow, don't look at your feet so much." Forrest told her, seeing her clear distress. Helga nodded, and Grandma started the music once again.

"Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Right, back, left, back! And… turn!" Grandma yelled excitedly. Helga followed her words, and also followed Forrest's advice. She kept her eyes straight ahead at his chest and surprisingly, she nailed the turn! Granted, it was a little wobbly, but she did it. Sighing in relief, she genuinely smiled for the first time that day.

"Very nice! Okay, I think we should take a water break." Grandma offered. Helga nodded nervously, hoping that she didn't see Arnold out in the hallway.

Emerging from the room, they made it to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water and sipped quietly. Helga studied the mural on the kitchen wall with contemplation. It looked like it hadn't been worked on since they came over for dinner. _That painting would really work with more color…and maybe some less conventional shapes. And black outlining…_

"You're right!" Grandma exclaimed from behind her. Helga paled, not noticing that she had said her thoughts aloud. "I've had artist's block for the past while now, and I was pretty sure I would never finish the goddamn thing. But that's not a bad idea at all…"

Helga grinned slightly before the three of them reentered the room and continued on with practice. Within the next half hour or so, she had completely mastered the turn. But now, she had a totally different qualm.

"Helga, you're stiff as a board! Move your hips a little! Watch Forrest, he's doing it right." Grandma shouted to her over the music, causing her to stumble. Move her hips? She could barely move her feet! The music stopped abruptly.

"The salsa is all about attitude! Arrrrrrrrriba!" Grandma exclaimed, rolling her r's with enthusiasm. This lady had more energy than a little kid with soda.

Again, the music started. Helga could feel the blood pumping through her veins robustly. It was embarrassing enough that she was in the boarding house, dancing the salsa with her sister's boyfriend, but she needed to put _attitude _in it? Oh god.

Arnold sat quietly in his room, completely unaware of everything happening down stairs. He chewed on the eraser of his pencil thoughtfully, trying to make sense of the trigonometry problem in front of him. Downstairs, he heard his Grandma shout 'Arrrrriba!' and he groaned. Was she making Mexican food _again_ tonight?

At around 6:30 PM, Helga was slipping out the door, thankfully unnoticed. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief as soon as she stepped outside the boarding house. It had been almost miraculous that she didn't run into Arnold. And it had also been miraculous that she actually _learned _something. Sure, it wasn't Fall Formal material, but it was something.

Arnold trotted down the stairs at around seven, hungry for dinner. He almost toppled into Forrest as he turned the corner down the hallway.

"Woah, hold up. Dinner's not ready yet." Forrest said to him, taking a bite of the apple he had in his hand.

"But I just heard Grandma shout 'Arrrrriba!'… and that usually means she's making Mexican. And that was almost an hour ago." Arnold protested, hearing his stomach rumble angrily. If he didn't eat something soon, he was pretty sure his stomach would become a ravaging monster that would terrorize the town.

"Oh, that." Forrest replied, before a silly grin crept onto his face. Arnold hated that sly look; it always meant he was up to something.

"That was just Grandma teaching your little girlfriend how to salsa dance." Forrest said matter-of-factly, taking a mouthful of his apple.

Arnold frowned. What did he mean by girlfriend?

"You know, the blond one."

Helga? No, it must have been someone else.

"Uh… who?"

"Olga's sister."

Arnold knew he had to be mistaken. Why would Helga take salsa lessons from Grandma? Why would she take salsa lessons at all? It was all so out of place.

Before Arnold could ask any more questions, Forrest was heading down the hallway, laughing to himself as he threw the apple into the air and caught it effortlessly.

**A/N: I know it was kind of a weird place to stop, but I didn't want to get into the dance part just yet! So let me know what you thought!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Well, Happy Belated Thanksgiving! I'm so sorry this took forever for me to write, but I was so swamped with school and dance that I couldn't write very often. So I hope you enjoy this chapter! **

To say that Helga was anxious was an understatement.

Helga was not anxious. She was _terrified_.

The week before the dance was quite possibly the worst week of her life. Every day at school was a nightmare. Arnold gave her peculiar glances every once in a while as they passed each other in the halls. _Had he seen me? _She thought to herself, _Did he see me dancing with in his own freakin' house, with his own freakin' grandmother, to Latin music nonetheless? _She couldn't help but try her best to avoid him all week. Although, that was rather hard, seeing as they had three classes together.

"Hey, Helga?" He had acknowledged her Wednesday in English class. Fearfully, she turned her head in his direction with wide eyes and shaky shoulders. _He's going to say it,_ she thought, _he's going to say he saw me salsa dancing at his house and whole class is going to hear it!_

She could feel her insides doing flip flops and somersaults as he opened his mouth slower than humanly possible, ready to embarrass her in front of everyone.

"Do you have a pencil?"

Helga slumped in relief, muttering 'phew' under her breath before reaching into her backpack and pulling out a pencil. Throwing it in his direction (and accidentally launching it into his hair), she turned back around before he could thank her. Arnold, however, had almost forgotten about the whole spiel. I mean, Forrest did throw him a few winks here and there, causing him to remember his words. But he would usually forget in a few moments.

But Helga couldn't be more of a mess. She couldn't even pass by his house for the fear that Grandma would be there, or Forrest, or hell, even Grandpa. Although, it was hard, seeing as there were few alternate routes to get to her house without passing his. It took her a while to master, but the extra five-minute drive was totally worth it.

Of course, Phoebe didn't seem to be noticing her apparent nervousness. She was too busy obsessing over the whole dance. Every moment of every day was spent talking about the dance, just another reason for Helga to be stressed. Phoebe constantly fretted over what she would do for her hair, and where they were going for dinner before. Helga just sat there, trying hard not to think about it all while nodding and smiling at her best friend. The problems were endless, however. One day, it was the size of her dress. Phoebe claimed it was too big, even when Helga suggested pinning it a million times. Another day, it was transportation.

"How many cars should we take? Do you think each of us should take our own cars? But that's so dangerous for the environment… we should carpool. But who would go with who?"

Helga sat in awe as her friend talked to herself aimlessly. She had no idea that many thoughts and questions could fit in one person's head.

"Calm down, Pheebs." She would tell her every time, but that always made Phoebe go into 'thought overdrive'. More questions blurted out of her mouth, except ten times faster and in a much higher pitched voice.

"But what are we going to do? Do you think Bob will lend you the truck? I'm sure we could fit a lot of people in there. But I just want it to be safe too, you know? I could ask to borrow my mom's car, but I'm not a very good driver. What about Gerald? Or Rhonda? Her dad has that big Hummer, I think. I'll ask her about that later."

Wide-eyed, she couldn't help but feel a chuckle rise in her throat as she watched Phoebe freak out. It was the only thing keeping her sane at the moment.

Finally, Friday crept around the corner, meaning the dance was in only twenty-four hours. Helga had bitten all of her nails down to stubs, and she could have sworn she saw a gray hair popping out of her scalp.

"Have you gotten your dress yet?" Phoebe asked her while they ate lunch, conveniently at the opposite side of the table than Arnold. Helga's face dropped.

"Shit…" She muttered, forgetting all about the actual dressing up factor of this wretched dance.

"Helga! I can't believe you forgot!"

The blonde gave a sideways frown as she wrung her hands nervously. How could she have neglected that chore?

"We're going to have to go right after school." Phoebe concluded, taking a bite of her fruit salad.

"We?" Helga asked. Phoebe clucked her tongue at her.

"Of course, Helga. One could always use an extra opinion." She replied matter-of-factly. Helga sighed, downing the rest of her Dr. Pepper before slamming it down on the table, muttering a 'fine'.

The rest of the day was spent thinking about what kind of dress she wanted to buy. But the truth was, Helga wasn't too positive about it all. She rarely dressed up, and when she did, she always felt so out of place. Like a boy wearing heels. Sighing, she thought of all possible combinations. Maroon strapless? Black spaghetti strap? Blue halter? She had no idea.

"We have to check every possible store," Phoebe muttered as they strolled in the mall. Helga stared down at the shiny floor, silently cursing the dance and cursing Phoebe. But she kept her mouth shut as her bespectacled friend talked to herself aimlessly.

"Let's try here." She announced, pulling Helga into a bright store that smelled of cheap perfume and shoe polish. Pop music pumped in the background as the two walked about the aisles, pulling out a few dresses.

"Oh, look at this one. Marvelous." Phoebe said to no one in particular, pulling out a white, strapless dress. It had a glossy texture and a black bow right under the bust. Helga stuck her tongue out.

"White makes me look pale as a ghost." She said, walking ahead of Phoebe. They browsed for a few more moments until Phoebe pulled out another one. A green halter dress with a sequined neckline. Helga made another face.

"What's wrong with this one?" Phoebe asked, getting aggravated.

"Sequins, Pheebs? Do I look like someone who would wear _sequins_?"

Phoebe sighed, putting the dress back on the rack in defeat.

"Let's just go to another store." She concluded, leading Helga out of the dress shop. They walked in silence down the stairs and towards a large department store. This place was obviously classier than the last. Soft piano music floated in the air, and personal shoppers prowled around the area like tigers. As soon as they entered, they were greeted by an older woman.

"Welcome to Lacey's, are you looking for anything specific today?"

The two girls said their 'no's and 'thank you's before quickly side stepping her and heading for the dress section. Thankfully, this place seemed more of Helga's style. As they browsed, she found a few that she liked, but nothing that popped out at her. Until she saw _it_. Grabbing the dress hastily, she rushed for the dressing room without muttering more than two words to Phoebe.

The color was a deep turquoise, Helga's favorite color. It was strapless, and it hugged her shape perfectly. It dropped to mid-thigh, and ruffled in all the right places. The texture was silky, and it felt smooth to the touch. Helga sighed in contentment as she swirled around for the millionth time, making sure to take in all aspects of the dress. It was perfect.

Practically skipping out of the dressing room, she paid for the rather expensive dress and the two girls left the store smiling wide. Somehow, Helga had almost forgotten about her irrational fear of the fall formal. At least, until she got home.

"Oh, Helga! Let me see that dress of yours." Olga said gleefully as her little sister entered the house. Helga smirked and pulled it out of the bag to show her.

"It's so gorgeous! I love the color. Can I do your hair tomorrow? Please? Pleeease?" Olga pleaded, taking the dress into her hands and rubbing her fingers across the smooth texture. Helga tugged the dress away from her hands slightly.

"Sure, Olga." She said before turning towards the staircase and silently adding, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

When she entered her room, she slammed the door and flopped onto her bed in exhaustion. Who knew shopping was so tiring? This is when she remembered her current quarrel: dancing. She inwardly groaned and turned onto her stomach, resting her chin upon her hand. No matter how good she might look tomorrow, her dancing skills were still about the equivalent of an old, drunken man. Meaning, she'd probably be doing the Macarena or the cha-cha slide while everyone else is getting their groove on.

The rest of the night was dreadful. She stared at the clock every half-hour, not willing herself to sleep. After channel surfing through all nine hundred channels twice, she pulled out her laptop and surfed the web instead. But nothing could keep her attention. Eventually, she fell asleep on a pile of her old comic books, not looking forward to tomorrow.

She woke up at about noon after a series of awful dreams. Eating a lunch of saltines and cheese (it was all she could suffice with such a weak stomach), she lounged around the living room for as much time as she could muster until Olga barged in.

"Helga! It's already 4:30 and you aren't getting ready? Don't you have dinner at six tonight?"

Helga sighed angrily before turning to her sister and leering at her.

"Quick. Get up! To the bathroom, I've already got the curling irons all set up."

She felt a groan build up inside of her. Curling irons? Was she really going to curl her hair? She rose in defeat, trudging to the bathroom and standing with her arms crossed. Olga appeared behind her, a large, evil grin on her face. Grabbing a big clip, she took the top layer of Helga's hair and clipped it up and out of the way before she started curling the bottom half. And she did not neglect to drench each strand in at least four sprays of hairspray. Worrying for her own health, Helga tried her best to hold her breath, but to no avail. She found herself breathing in those toxic fumes for a good forty-five minutes. Not to mention getting burned at least seven times on the scalp, once on both ears, and a stinging sensation in her eye from a little hairspray mishap. But she did have to admit… she looked good.

Her half-blonde, half-black hair was curled into medium-sized ringlets that spilled onto her shoulders gracefully. She almost smiled to herself, but then stopped when she felt another coughing fit coming on. Damn hairspray.

Olga then shooed her upstairs to slip on her dress and her gold heels with a matching gold necklace (Olga claimed they went together _perfectly_). Helga stumbled into the bathroom, not very steady on her heels, and looked at herself in the mirror. Very impressed with what she saw, she pulled open her drawer of makeup and grabbed some liquid foundation. Spreading it across her whole face, she applied some mascara and a teensy bit of eyeliner. She then grabbed some bronzer, applying sparsely, and then a touch of clear lip-gloss to top it off.

Finally, she was done. She stared at herself in awe, barely able to register anything. She looked good, but her stomach suddenly turned against her. Butterflies took over her insides, fluttering every which way. Her head was a little light, probably because of the hairspray, and she could still feel her ears burning. But there was no time for any of it, for the doorbell ringing interrupted her anxiousness.

Carefully and slowly, she bounded down the stairs to greet Phoebe. Her best friend looked rather stunning, with a royal blue spaghetti strap dress to match her new contacts. She wore silver jewelry to match, and silver heels as well. Her long, straight black hair was pinned in an elegant, but not too fancy way. Behind her was Rhonda's dad's Hummer, idling on the curb. Trying her best to look poised, Helga made her way to the car with difficulty after saying goodbye to an ecstatic Olga, who seemed to think Helga was on her way to her own wedding instead of a fall formal dance.

Clambering into the car, she saw Sid in the front seat with his shiny dress shoes resting on the dashboard. Rhonda, looking mildly angry, gripped the wheel of the Hummer with her perfectly manicured hands. She was wearing a classy champagne dress that tied around her neck, and her hair was in some intricate up-do that probably took hours to put together. In the backseat was Gerald, wearing a white dress shirt and a royal blue tie to match Phoebe's dress. And then there was Arnold. Although he looked like he always did, Helga couldn't help but swoon. He wore a black dress shirt with a slick white tie. She felt her heart flutter nervously as she took a seat next to him.

The car lurched forward and they were off to dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant with a name that no one could pronounce correctly. The car ride filled with idle chatter and some stifled giggles at Rhonda's awful driving skills. Gripping onto the seat, Helga wondered if they would even make it there in one piece. Although, right now she would rather Rhonda ram into a building then have to endure the rest of the night.

Unfortunately, they pulled up to the restaurant minutes later, frazzled and jittery. Outside the building stood Harold, Nadine, Stinky, Lila, and Curly (much to Rhonda's dismay). All of the girls squealed and ogled at each other's dresses, all commenting on how good everyone looked and how excited they were. Well, all except for Helga, who was taking her sweet time getting out of the Hummer. Those heels were going to be the death of her. They entered the restaurant and were seated shortly afterwards at a long, narrow table with a dainty, white tablecloth. The whole group was buzzing about the dance, talking about how fun it was going to be, and about Rhonda's after party at her house. Helga sat with her chin in her hand, sipping on her water every once in a while as she stared blankly at her hands. She didn't neglect to notice that Arnold was sitting right next to her, carefully looking at the menu with a puzzled look on his face. He looked so cute when he was confused.

"Do you understand anything on this menu?" He asked her, flipping the pages around aimlessly. She gulped.

"Um, no." She choked out, taking another sip of water as Arnold shrugged, going back to the menu. Soon, a man with a black, curly mustache approached the table and took the drink order after setting down a breadbasket in the middle of the table. Not thinking, Helga and Arnold both reached for the basket at the same time, gracing hands on accident. She felt a jolt run through her skin and she let out a nervous laugh before pulling her hand away and keeping it under the table. Next to her, Phoebe was giving her a strange look.

"What is your deal?" She whispered in a hushed tone. Helga sighed and shrugged before going back to the menu. Soon, the waiter was back to take the orders. Helga watched, clearly amused, as all of her friends attempted (and failed) to pronounce their meals. She ordered a simple fettucini alfredo, almost positive that she wouldn't be able to stomach any of it.

The table filled with idle chatter for the next fifteen minutes, mostly dominated by Rhonda who wouldn't stop talking about the after party. Helga watched as she speared her fork through a cherry tomato in her salad and waggled it about as she talked about just how expensive the party cost. Helga could feel a groan escape her throat but she held it in as the food was served.

Twirling around her pasta and then unfurling it, she looked around. At the far end of the table was Stinky and Lila, playfully feeding each other bites of food. Yuck. Next to them was Nadine, who picked away at her vegetarian meal, and Harold who was trying to shove his whole lasagna in his mouth in one bite. Another yuck. Next to them was Rhonda, who daintily twirled her pasta with one pinky sticking out like she was royalty or something. Sid, who was sitting next to her, was busy flinging his peas into Gerald's hair. And then, of course, there was Curly. He sat on the other end of the table, silent. He didn't even have any food in front of him. The only movement he made was to waggle his fingers at Rhonda if she were to look his way. Talk about creepy.

Still pushing her food around and around her plate, Helga stole a quick glance at Arnold.

"_Helga, dear," He said softly, "What's wrong? Why aren't you eating?"_

_She blushed at the mere sound of her name on his lips._

"_Arnold, I… I have a confession to make." She began, lips trembling as she spoke. He stroked her shoulder, urging her to continue. "I can't dance, Arnold. I should have told you sooner."_

_He stared blankly at her, and in a moment she was sure everything was completely over. But instead he laughed a sweet, melodic laugh._

"_Darling! I saw you dancing the salsa that afternoon. And yet, how can you say you're a bad dancer? The way you moved to the beat… perfection! I say we dance right now!"_

"_Right now?" She asked as he pulled her on top of the dining room table. Salsa music played instantly and the two began to dance fervently on the table. He spun her, held her close, and dipped her dramatically before bringing her close to his face; so close that their noses were touching. And then he kissed her, passionately. His mouth tasted sweet on hers as he snaked his arms up her waist and-_

"Hello?"

Helga shook her head violently, preparing to glare at the person who interrupted her daydream when she saw Arnold staring at her with a puzzled expression. She felt her cheeks grow scarlet.

"Your check is here," He said as he handed her the leather booklet. Smiling awkwardly, she grabbed it and shoved thirty dollars in the middle, still feeling embarrassed about her thoughts. Arnold didn't seem to notice anything. In fact, he was becoming a little nervous himself.

All week, Gerald had been bothering him about who he was going to dance with. And oddly enough, his best friend seemed to be rooting for Helga the whole way. Arnold couldn't have been more confused. As he thought this, he watched as Helga and Phoebe excused themselves from the table. He sighed and stuck his credit card in the tip booklet.

"Helga, could you be more uncomfortable around him?" Phoebe asked her as soon as they burst into the bathroom. Sighing, Helga combed her fingers through her curls tentatively.

"You were the one who told me to be nice!"

"Being nice doesn't mean being totally tongue-tied. I've never seen this side of you! He asks you one question and you practically liquefy in your seat. I mean, even Gerald asked me what was going on." As Phoebe said this last second, she almost gasped at her own words. Squinting her eyes at her, Helga crossed her arms over her chest.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked, growing angry. Now it was Phoebe's turn to let out a nervous laugh. "Did you tell him?"

"Well, I didn't really tell him… he just kind of figured it out. Although I have no idea how! But don't worry, I threatened to take his life if he told."

Helga sighed angrily. Why was she finding this out now?

"Whatever. Let's just get back to the table." She concluded, taking one last look at the mirror before pushing the door open. As they approached the table, they saw the rest of their friends standing and getting ready to leave. They all filed out of the restaurant and into their respective cars to head to the school. Helga couldn't help but feel shaky as Rhonda slammed the gas, causing the car to lurch forward. She rubbed her temples tentatively.

In just a few moments, they were pulling into the crowded parking lot. Arnold watched as girls, all dolled up with their hair and makeup, and their dates walked and talked as they approached the school. His stomach felt uneasy as he hopped out of the car and straightened his dress shirt. Although his uneasiness was nothing compared to Helga's.

Her legs wobbled as she walked towards the school with the others. Phoebe's excited chattering went in through one ear and out the other fluidly; all she could hear was a dull murmur. Staring at the ground intently, making sure she didn't fall, she took in a deep breath as they approached the gymnasium door.

Inside, the music was pumping loudly, so loud that it felt like the walls around them were vibrating. There were a few punch tables around the outskirts of the dance floor, and there was a DJ with headphones pressed to his ears at the front of the gymnasium. Apparently there was a theme to the dance as well: A Night in Paris. Scattered around the gym were small, black metal tables with matching chairs, and there were candles on each table.

All of Helga's friends practically ran inside, eager to dance, but she resumed her slow walking pace, making sure her ankle didn't slip out of her heels. It was then that she felt a tug on her arm from Phoebe, pulling her inside and towards the large mob of people in the middle of the floor. _This is it_, she thought, _now or never_.

After the group successfully wedged themselves into the middle of the mob, everyone began to move to the beat of the hip-hop song as Helga pretended to be fixing her dress. When she looked up, she saw Phoebe practically glaring at her, as Gerald stood behind her with his hands on her waist. Helga began to move her hips to the music like she had to the Latin beat when she was salsa dancing. She felt incredibly awkward, but no one else seemed to notice. So she kept doing what she was doing, making sure not to look anyone else in the eye in case they were laughing at her.

Surprisingly enough, she wasn't bad. She was almost thankful for doing those lessons, remembering Grandma's words. _"__Move your hips a little! The salsa is all about attitude! Arrrrrrrrriba!" _So, she did exactly what she remembered that day, except she took the actual salsa step out of it. After the first few songs, she was starting to get the hang of it. That's when she noticed that she hadn't seen Arnold since they got inside. Looking around, she saw Lila and Stinky pressed against each other, as well as Harold and Nadine (who would have thought that?). Rhonda was dancing with Sid, and Curly was close behind, keeping a very close eye on the two. She even saw Eugene a few feet away, dancing to the beat of his own drum. Literally.

But there was no Arnold. At least, until she looked behind her to find that he was there. Not directly behind her, but pretty close. She felt her face grow bright red as she whipped her head back around and widened her eyes at Phoebe. Phoebe nodded at her, signaling for her to dance with him, but Helga couldn't. She shook her head vigorously, causing an eye roll from both Phoebe and Gerald. But luck was on her side, for the song soon ended and the DJ went into a spiel about donating an extra dollar to the punch table to help fund the chess team. Helga let out her breath, one that she hadn't noticed she had been holding, and wiped her moist brow.

Of course, there wasn't too much time to catch her breath and rejuvenate, for another song began to play. But it wasn't a fast paced techno, or a risqué hip-hop song. A soft piano ballad played and Helga could hear a series of 'aww's and 'I love this song's coming from her classmates around her. And in the blink of an eye, everyone had paired up with each other. She shook her head vigorously, wondering how everyone got together so quickly, and then realized that she was the odd woman out.

She stared at Phoebe, who was widening her eyes and then squinting them, obviously trying to signal something but Helga had no clue.

"What?" She whispered harshly at her friend, who still looked like she was trying to get debris out of her eye. And then she looked next to her, seeing Arnold watching the crowd with the same confusion as she had a few moments ago. He felt her eyes on him and stared back at her, half-smiling. Helga felt her heart melt right in her chest.

"This song is nice." He commented, looking back to the crowd while taking a half step towards her. She opened her mouth to speak but she couldn't get anything out, so she nodded instead.

"Do you want t-"

And that's all he got out before the ceiling sprinklers turned on, soaking everyone on the dance floor. Arnold heard someone yell "Fire!" behind him, and he turned to find one of the candles on the punch table had knocked over, setting the whole table aflame. People were screaming, either because of the fire or because they were getting soaked in frigid water, and started for the exit. But they were stopped by the school administration, holding out their arms with frightened expressions on their face.

"Everyone please exit in an orderly fashion! No pushing or shoving, please!" They heard the principal shout as he was bowled over by a mob of teenagers, clawing for the door.

"We're all gonna die!" Someone yelled as they rushed for the exit. The flame had grown significantly in the past thirty seconds, reaching halfway up the gymnasium wall. Arnold looked around at all the girls, trying desperately to cover their hair as they complained, "It took me _hours_to do my hair!"

Finally, the group shoved and kicked their way out of the gym, panting as they did so. Rhonda, looking red in the face, put her shaking hands on her hips and frowned angrily.

"What the hell am I going to do about the party? It can't start two hours early, this is not what I planned!" She shrieked as Nadine tried to calm her down. The rest of the group wringed out their hair onto the concrete, which had become completely soaked because of the sprinklers, as Sid and Nadine convinced Rhonda that it's not the end of the world, and that it was no big deal that the party would start early. Finally, when she 'hmphed' and muttered a "fine, whatever", the group piled back into their respective cars and headed to Rhonda's house for the party, an aspect of the night that Helga definitely didn't plan. In fact, she had been so busy thinking about the dance that she totally forgot about the party. And just like that, her shaky uneasiness surfaced once again as Rhonda slammed the gas on the Hummer, zooming out of the school parking lot.

**A/N: Well, I made sure to make this chapter a little longer than the rest just because I haven't updated in so long! So I hope you enjoyed this, and I'm sorry I had to make the sprinklers go on right before the good part! I just figured that it's a little too early for them to be getting romantic. Let me know what you thought!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This chapter is going to be a little shorter than the others, I apologize in advance. Enjoy!**

Arnold's stomach knotted up as Rhonda sped off in the Hummer, gripping the wheel fiercely. It had just now hit him. He had finally decided to suck it up and ask Helga to dance, and a _fire_ breaks out. Could his life honestly be any more random?

"Shit, Rhonda," yelled Sid, as she almost clipped the car in front of them trying to switch lanes, "Are you trying to get us killed?"

Rhonda growled at him in response, not bothering to take her eyes off the road. Helga gripped her seat uncomfortably with rigid fingers. She tried to replay everything in her mind that just happened but she was a little blurry. But there was one thing she knew for sure:

Arnold had asked her to dance.

Well, technically, he asked 'do you want t-' but she definitely wasn't complaining. At that moment, she couldn't have felt more amazing or more terrified in her whole entire life. Thoughts reeled through her head endlessly. _Does he like me? Will he ask me out? Will something happen at this party? Do I need a mirror check? Is there anything on my teeth? Do I smell okay? Will th-_

"We're here," Rhonda announced in a haughty tone. The two blondes gulped simultaneously as they clambered out of the car with the rest of their friends. Nadine, Harold, Lila, Stinky, and Curly arrived just a few minutes later, and they all piled into the house. Rhonda grinned smugly as her friends' eyes lit up at the scene. The house could barely be considered a house; it was more of a mansion. They ventured into the living room and sat on the monstrous couches. Rhonda sighed angrily as she blew a piece of flyaway hair out of her face.

"Why aren't people here yet? All that food is going to get cold," Rhonda complained, pointing to the tables of food in the kitchen that had hastily been put together by a few maids.

"Maybe because you drive like a madwoman? I'm sure half of them haven't even left the _parking lot _yet." Sid pointed out, eliciting a few laughs from Harold and Stinky. Rhonda rolled her eyes at him.

"Whatever." She replied angrily. All the while, Helga still had a million thoughts rolling through her head as she tried desperately not to get sucked in by the couch she was sitting on. Who ever thought that these kinds of couches were comfortable? Her whole ass had disappeared into the cushion, for crying out loud.

As the living room filled with idle chatter, the doorbell rang. Rhonda squealed and ran to open it, and almost instantly the house was filled with guests. Helga sighed, noticing that Arnold had disappeared. But she wasn't about to go out looking for him. In fact, she was a bit afraid to talk to him now that they had an 'almost moment'. Damn that candle fire.

In an instant, the booze was brought out (thank God Rhonda's parents were out on business) and hungry teenagers were swarming the food. But Helga stayed on her couch, arms crossed, watching the crowd.

Music began pumping from Rhonda's surround sound stereo system, and a large mob of people started dancing in the middle of her living room. It was almost as if the Fall Formal had just relocated from the school gymnasium to Rhonda's living room. In the dining room, a game of beer pong had already been set up and the teams were being divided. In the kitchen, Rhonda was busy rushing around, making sure no one broke her priceless porcelain plates. Helga even spotted Stinky and Lila having their own little make-out, groping vertical sex type of thing. She mentally gagged.

"Helga," Phoebe said from beside her, also alone. Gerald had left Phoebe to go play a competitive game of beer pong with Harold and Sid against Curly, Nadine and the Russian exchange student, Darcy.

"What?" She snapped. Phoebe inched closer to her on the couch, careful not to get swallowed up by the couches.

"So…? Did something go on at the dance? I saw you and Arnold talking," Phoebe whispered, looking around to make sure no one was listening.

"Yes, Pheebs. Something definitely went on. He asked me to _dance_! And then the freakin' candles had to ruin our night… I have worse luck than Eugene. Criminy!"

Phoebe squealed like a child who just got a brand new toy. A gigantic grin crept onto her face.

"I can't believe it! Wow, that's so great."

Helga rolled her eyes and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

"Not really. What are we supposed to do now? We had that little 'moment', and now I don't know what to do. He hasn't even _looked _at me since he asked me to dance."

Phoebe gnawed on her bottom lip, clearly scheming in her head. Helga waited for her foolproof plan.

"I have an idea," Phoebe began. Helga's eyes lit up and she nodded eagerly for her friend to go on as if she was about to explain the meaning of life.

"See, I could get Gerald to talk to him after he's done with his game, and-"

"No, Pheebs. I am not getting Geraldo any more involved than he already is."

Phoebe's face fell immediately.

"Well, Helga, I'm afraid to say that I have no other ideas at the moment…"

Helga sighed in defeat. Maybe it wasn't meant to be…? _Bullshit_, thought Helga, _I've come this far… I'll have to come up with my own idea._

Standing abruptly, she headed over to a table that had a few unopened beer cans on it, and she grabbed one with vigor. Popping open the tab, she took a small sip. Truthfully, she wasn't a drinker; hell, she could barely hold her liquor. But she figured she'd need a little bit of liquid courage to muster more than a few words to Arnold. If she could ever find him, that is…

For twenty minutes, she literally scoured the whole downstairs of Rhonda's house for him; all the while she blindly took gulp after gulp of her beer. At this point, she was only drinking it to look like she was doing something instead of looking. After she finished the can, she reached to grab another. So far, she had checked the dance floor for a hint of cornflower hair, but he wasn't there. He wasn't in the kitchen, living room, or anywhere else. She clenched her fists together in obvious frustration. Did he leave…?

She polished off the second beer and was feeling slightly tipsy (like I said: she's a lightweight) before she grabbed one more. Maybe she would check the upstairs? Although, she vaguely remembered Rhonda saying something about murdering if anyone went up there. So she decided against it.

Crumpling the third can of beer she had in her hand, she threw it in a nearby trashcan and slumped back onto the couch she was on at least thirty minutes ago. Phoebe spotted her from the beer pong table where she was cheering Gerald on, and she headed over to talk to her best friend.

"I haven't seen Arnold all night," Phoebe commented, "Neither has Gerald."

"I think he left…" Helga trailed off, feeling a strong sense of anger and sadness come over her, "Did I do shomething wrong?"

"No! Maybe I could get Gerald to call him?"

"I don't think so… I have to _pee._" She said suddenly, standing from her spot. Waving off Phoebe, she clambered through a narrow hallway, checking every door to see which was the bathroom. Finally, she came to a door with a particularly tough handle to turn, but she finally pushed herself inside. Sighing triumphantly when she saw that it was the bathroom, she shut the door behind her before she noticed something. The bathroom was occupied.

"Helga?" Arnold asked. He was sitting on the tile floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him. At first, he stared up at her happily, but when he heard the door click, his heart fell.

"Arnoldo? What are you doing in here… on the floor?" She asked, her speech slightly slurred. He let out a long, drawn-out sigh as he picked at a stray thread in his dress pants.

"The door's busted. I've been trying to get out for at least an hour. I didn't notice the 'Out of Order' sign outside, and I guess you didn't either…"

Helga could have died.

Her intentions were to casually talk to him, and hopefully continue that dance if the opportunity presented itself. But here she was, trapped in a _bathroom _with him. Just them two, completely alone. What if it was awkward? Her brain was wracked with questions as she nervously picked at her nails.

"Do you have your phone?" He asked her. She nodded and pulled out her cell phone, dialing Phoebe's number. When she put it to her ear, all she could hear was a bothersome beeping noise. No service.

"I don't have service."

Arnold's face dropped for the millionth time that night.

"Stupid G-Mobile…" They both muttered under their breaths, before nervously laughing. Helga clumsily hoisted herself onto the spacious, marble bathroom counter and crossed her legs, still not forgetting the fact that her bladder was full. Wobbling to one side a little, she hiccupped.

"Are you… drunk?" He asked her, laughing a little as he did so. She felt her cheeks grow scarlet.

"What'sh it to ya, football head?"

He just laughed at her once more before going back to his hopeless façade. Hopping off the counter, Helga looked at the doorknob curiously, as if there was some secret magic spell to unlock it. Tugging, twisting, and jerking the knob really didn't seem to help, but she did it anyways. Nothing.

"Oh! I have a bobby pin in my hair." She said suddenly, pulling out one of the many pins in her hair and not caring that one of her curls came loose. She tried jamming the pin in various places but nothing happened.

"Helga, the door is jammed, not locked." He pointed out, laughing a little. She sighed and threw the pin onto the floor.

"Have you tried screaming?" She asked. He shook his head.

"I figured that the music was so loud they wouldn't hear. But we could try…?"

Helga nodded. Holding up her fingers, she counted down from three and they both opened their mouths to let out ear-splitting screams. After a few moments of yelling, she advanced towards the door and started to pound on it with her fists. Arnold got up and did the same.

"Somebody help us!" She shouted, kicking and punching the door.

"Heeeeeelp!" Arnold mimicked her as she started throwing her body against the door. Liquid courage? Talk about a freakin' liquid _miracle_. She was acting like a total freak and Arnold actually started to think it was funny. After throwing her body against the door once more, she slid down onto the ground in a heaping mess. She broke into an uncontrollable giggle-fest as she lay on the bathroom ground, covering her face with her hands. Her face was tomato red when she looked up at Arnold to see that he could barely breath from laughing so hard.

"You… look… so funny." He cried between gasps, clutching onto his stomach for dear life. Slowly, he slid onto the ground as well, and they sat across from each other still giggling like idiots. Finally, as they stopped and wiped their eyes, they grew silent.

"You know," He began, his voice still wobbly from laughing so hard, "You looked really nice tonight."

For the third time that night, Helga could have just _died._ But this time, in a good way. She opened her mouth to say thank you, but she stopped herself. She had already gone this far… why not push it to the limit a little?

She had no idea if it was the alcohol, or just the sheer empowerment she had just experienced from his compliment, but she felt the urge to kiss him. So she slowly inched towards him, still sitting, and opened her mouth to say,

"You clean up pretty nice yourself, Arnoldo."

Simultaneously, they leaned in and their lips collided. Helga felt like she wanted to laugh, cry, scream, and jump up and down frantically all in that one moment that their lips touched. He tasted sweet, just as she had imagined, and his lips fit perfectly against hers. Opening her eyes as the kiss continued, she had to make sure that this didn't happen to be another fantasy of hers where Arnold would whisk her away to La-La Land. But it definitely wasn't. It was just her and him, no cheesy romantic lines or salsa dancing on top of a dinner table. She wanted to stay in that moment forever, but unfortunately, fate had another plans for her (surprise, surprise).

The two didn't seem to hear the doorknob jiggle and turn next to them until the door was open, revealing Rhonda Whellington-Lloyd.

**A/N: Sorry it was so short! I figured that the last chapter was longer than I had planned, so I would make up for it with a shorter chapter. But there you go. They finally kissed! And it only took… 11 chapters. Oh well ;p. Review, let me know what you thought!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Two things! One: I AM SO INCREDIBLY SORRY! Just letting you all know, I did not forget about this story. It is more that I was struggling so much to come up with this chapter because it is mostly a filler. Two: Again, I must apologize. The chapter is rather short! I didn't mean it, but like I said... it's a filler. Sorry ya'll. Hope you still enjoy!**

"What do we have here?" Rhonda slurred drunkenly as she leaned on the doorframe. Helga and Arnold pulled apart immediately and looked up at her in shock and awe. Defiantly, Helga stood from the floor and pointed a bony finger at Rhonda.

"You didn't see _anything_, got it?" she said menacingly. Rhonda rolled her eyes.

"You don't scare me, Miss Helga G. Patacki," she said, elongating the 'i' at the end of Patacki. Helga hadn't noticed that Arnold had stood as well, and was now grasping her shoulder with his hand.

"Let's just go back to the party. Rhonda," he began, looking at the drunken princess. "I'd appreciate if you don't say anything about this, and I'm sure Helga would too. Okay?"

Now it was Helga's turn to roll her eyes. It was going to take a lot more than that to convince Rhonda to keep her big mouth shut.

"Oh, come on Arnold, this isn't some sort of… some sort of _peace _convention or something!" Helga slurred angrily as Rhonda burst into a fit of giggles.

"This is juicy! You can't expect me to keep my mouth shut about this!" she exclaimed loudly before heading back down the hallway to let the secret loose to like a wild animal from a cage.

"I'm going to _tackle_ her!" Helga shouted vehemently. Just as she was about to launch her thin body at Rhonda, Arnold grabbed her arms from behind to try to restrain her. "Let go, Arnold!"

"No, Helga, let's just forget about it. Rhonda's so drunk, she probably already forgot-"

"Arnold and Helga sitting in a tree! Well, uh… bathroom. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" they heard Rhonda scream loud enough that it was heard over the bumping music in the living room. The two blondes smacked their foreheads in frustration and fought the urge to tackle her like football players. Immediately, the crown of onlookers became silent.

"This is your fault," Helga muttered.

"What?! How?"

"If you had just let me pop her one like I was going to, nobody would have found out!" she seethed adamantly, staring daggers into Arnold's eyes. He glowered.

"Well, if you punched her in the face, she probably still would have told. And besides, violence never solves anything." Arnold stated matter-of-factly as he stared out into the living room. Several people had their jaws slack, others were smiling, but most had already gotten over it and were back to dancing and downing drinks.

"Save it, Mother Theresa. I don't want to hear any 'violence won't solve anything' bullcrap because, trust me, it would have shut her up."

Arnold stared blankly at her for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words. Frowning a little, he dared to ask,

"Does it even matter if everyone knows?"

A sober Helga might have thought this question over a little bit. Heck, she might have even said that it didn't matter at all, and that she was head-over-heels in love with him and wanted the whole world to know. But drunk Helga didn't bother to think this through.

"Of _course _it matters, Arnoldo, I don't want my reputation ruined!" she replied angrily, throwing her hands in the air for dramatic effect. Arnold looked very taken aback as the crease between his eyebrows deepened significantly. Almost immediately after she said it, she regretted it. Her mind was screaming, 'no! No! I didn't mean it! I love you, you football-headed, pea-brained, Gandhi-loving little freak!'

But she didn't correct herself. Instead, she watched as he walked away, leaving her dumbstruck in the hall.

--

"Pheebs, you have no idea how much I messed up." Helga told her best friend later as she sat with her head in her hands. The two were sitting on a bus stop near Rhonda's house, silently cursing themselves for not thinking ahead to the next morning. When they attempted to wake Rhonda up that morning to drive them home, she simply groaned like a cave man and rolled over onto her stomach. After that, she refused to listen to them.

"It can't be that bad, now could it?" Phoebe asked, tucking a strand of jet-black hair behind her ear. After the incident last night, Helga never got the chance to tell Phoebe exactly what went down because she threw herself onto a couch and drifted right to sleep. "Did you really kiss him?"

"Well, yeah…" Helga began with a small smile on her face, but it was quickly wiped off when she told Phoebe the rest of the story. Phoebe's face slowly fell as well.

"Are you going to apologize?" she asked as she and Helga stood from the bench and made their way onto the newly arrived bus that had stopped in front of them. Helga crinkled her nose at the smell of trash that wafted in her nostrils, coming from the rather grubby-looking man in the front seat who was taking full advantage of the free bus system by napping under a plethora of newspaper. The girls shoved their way to the back of the bus before continuing their conversation.

"I guess so, but what do I say to the little twerp? _I _know that I didn't mean what I said, but how would he know I wasn't lying?" she asked, her voice hinting a little bit of anger. Phoebe sighed.

"It all comes down to whether or not he trusts you, I guess." Phoebe replied as she rubbed her eyes sleepily. Helga did the same, feeling suddenly embarrassed due to her realization that both her and Phoebe were still in their dresses.

The rest of the bus ride was spent in silence until the bus stopped at the corner near Helga's home. She waved goodbye to her friend, who was practically half-asleep, and bounded towards her house. She couldn't wait to sink into a long, well-deserved bath.

And that's exactly what she did. She ignored her parents and sister as she dragged herself up the stairs and into the bathroom. She bathed for at least an hour before hopping out and throwing herself onto her bright pink bed. Flipping the TV on, she let it stay on an infomercial channel about birth control as she let her mind wander.

Had she really messed things up with Arnold, or was this just a dream? She hoped it was the latter as she played and replayed the events of last night over and over again in her head. She had wished the kiss lasted longer. Heck, she had wished she was a little more sober when she did it, but she couldn't take that back now. The girly part of her wanted to squeal, run around in circles, and shout to the world about her first kiss with her Romeo. The sensible part, however, didn't want anything to do with those antics. The sensible part wanted to call Arnold and apologize.

Anyone else would have thought that the apocalypse had come due to Helga actually _wanting _to say sorry, but she knew it had to be done. Shakily, she found him in her cell phone contact list and pressed the speaker to her ear. Now or never, she supposed.

"Hello?" came a sweet, sultry voice from the other line. Helga's heart jumped into her throat like a frog.

"_My darling, it is me. I have called to say how sorry I am, and how much I love you, no matter what!" she exclaimed passionately, not saving even a second for small talk. She heard silence on the other line._

"_I knew all along that you didn't mean it, my sweet. That kiss we shared was breathtaking, and every other kiss that we will share will be just as wonderful! Come over, dear Helga, we shall kiss until our lips are chapped!"_

"_Oh, Arnold!" Helga shouted passionately, throwing her fists into the air. _

"_I will be holding my breath until you arrive, my dear Helga… _Helga?"

"Ah-em, um, what?" she sputtered. Arnold seemed to sigh irritably on the other line.

"What is it?"

"Um, well, I just wanted to say that… I just wanted to say, um…" she said adamantly, trying to shove the word 'sorry' out of her mouth as fast as possible. She couldn't stop stuttering. "I'm s-sorry, okay? I'm sorry."

"Okay…?"

"Do you accept?" she asked hopefully, squeezing her eyes shut as if she was praying. He was silent.

"Well, you can't just say sorry and expect me to believe it, you know," he stated matter-of-factly. She wanted to give a nasty retort, but she realized that is why she was in this position in the first place. She bit her lip and tried to formulate the words.

"I wasn't really thinking, and I didn't mean it… trust me," she added that last part rather desperately. Secretly, she wanted to smack herself on the forehead. Why did she sound like she was begging for forgiveness? She was a Pataki, damn it! Begging was just not going to cut it!

"I still don't know," Arnold replied. _Fuck it_, Helga thought, _if I must, I'll beg until my throat goes hoarse._

"Arnold, you don't understand, I really didn't mean it! It was mean and it was rude and-"

"Just like you?" he interrupted her. She frowned and let out an exasperated noise. Her heart felt very heavy as she opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted once more by another voice.

"Oh, is that Hilda you're on the phone with?" his grandmother could be heard just barely in the background. He must have nodded, for she squealed happily.

"You must have her come over! Oh, she helped me so much with that suggestion she gave me about the mural, I have to show her the finished product!" she exclaimed loudly. Arnold was silent once again.

"Wait, what?" Arnold finally asked in a bewildered tone. Helga heard a shuffling through the phone, and then Arnold's grandmother's shrieking tone was on the other line.

"Hilda! That suggestion you gave me worked wonders, the mural is finished! You must come over!" she shouted happily, while Helga could hear Arnold protesting in the background. Helga laughed awkwardly.

"Um, I don't think so, I've got a lot of homework, and…"

"Nonsense!" she shouted at Helga. "It'll take two seconds, I'm telling you."

Helga remained silent for a few moments. Maybe Arnold would listen to her if she were actually there, in person? Or maybe he would just ignore her completely. There was no way to tell.

"Okay, sure. I'll be there in ten minutes."

**A/N: I know this chapter was pretty short, uneventful, and downright un-funny. BUT! It takes a load off my shoulders! The next chapter should be much smoother. I can't apologize enough, my dears. Just don't kill me for it!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Wow… So I'm so very sorry for leaving this story to die. I honestly was really invested in it, and then college started and I just didn't have any motivation to write. The other day, I found an old flash drive that had all of the documents I had stored on my old desktop before moving out… and here were all of my old fanfiction stories! I was so excited. Anyway, so I've been tweaking and playing with old stories, and I eventually came across this one, one of my favorites. I decided to update, because I really felt bad for leaving this story alone. So here it is. I'm sorry it's so short, I'm just now jogging my memory of where I wanted this story to go. Thanks for staying loyal to me as a writer. You guys are so awesome, really!**

Helga stood tense, staring up at Arnold's boarding house like it was going to swallow her whole. She couldn't go in, not after she made a complete ass of herself at Rhonda's party. No sir, not her, she was _not _going in there.

"And yet," she thought aloud, staring down at her feet, "what will become of us if I don't try to make amends?"

"Helga?" It was Arnold; his giant dome was sticking out of a window a few feet above the door. "What are you – were you talking to yourself?"

"Criminy," she muttered under her breath. "No, I was, um, on the phone, see?"

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and showed it to him, before putting it back up to her ear.

"Yes, I have to go now… bye," she said loudly before shoving the phone back into her pocket. And the lamest excuse of the year award goes to… well, who else.

Arnold rolled his eyes and (with difficulty) withdrew his head from the window. Helga, crimson-faced, turned to leave but the front door flung open and Arnold's grandma stood there. Splotches of paint dotted her face and shirt, and her triumphant smile emitting a beam of light upon the blonde.

"Hilda, dear, come in!" she exclaimed, waving at her.

"You know, I'd love to, but…" Helga explained, searching through the millions of more lame excuses. "I'm feeling kind of sick."

She coughed for emphasis. Grandma shrugged and waved goodbye, looking disappointed. But Helga had no remorse (did she ever?) and left, neglecting to notice the football-shaped shadow in the window watching her leave.

Arnold sighed. As much as he would have loved to finally yell at Helga for all of her wrongdoings, insults and jeers, it just felt wrong. Was it because, for once, he actually felt something towards her? He didn't know. His thoughts were interrupted by a scream.

"I can't believe it!"

_Oh god, _Arnold thought. If Suzie and Oskar were having another fight like the one last week (which ended in several broken plates and a chip in the wall in the living room), he was going to leave the house.

"She said yes! Olga said yes!"

As the voice continued to scream, Arnold recognized it as Forrest's. He rushed down the stairs, almost tripping several times, to see Forrest surrounded by boarders. His smile was huge.

"What happened?" Arnold asked frantically.

"I… I asked Olga to marry me," Forrest replied, clearly out of breath from excitement. "And she said yes!"

"She… you… marriage?" was the only thing Arnold could utter. Forrest nodded so fervently that Arnold was sure his head would fall right off.

"Yes!" he exclaimed just as Grandpa entered the room, scratching the back of his liver-spotted head.

"What in the heck's going on in here?" he asked, his eyes droopy from his recent nap. As Forrest recollected everything about the proposal, Helga was just a few houses down, knocking feverishly on Phoebe's front door. In times like these, she knew Phoebe would stick by her side.

"You have to come clean, Helga," Phoebe told her as Helga rolled her eyes. "Don't you see? That's what he wants you to do."

Helga internally cursed her friend, expecting Phoebe to tell her that Arnold would of _course _forgive her, and then he would profess his love to her and they would forget about this little snafu. But Phoebe was a realist, and Helga abhorred that.

"I _can't_. If I couldn't in elementary school, and I couldn't in middle school, _what makes you think I can do it now_?" she asked, a crazed expression on her face. Phoebe took a step back.

"But you guys kissed!"

"And I was drunk!"

"So? He wasn't," Phoebe stated matter-of-factly. Helga opened her mouth, ready to refute Phoebe's logic again but she sighed instead, flopping onto a hard, leather couch.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Pheebs," Helga commented, crossing her arms over her chest. Phoebe sunk into the couch cushion next to her.

"Whatever you end up doing," Phoebe began, "just be true to yourself."

Helga stared at her wise friend, and she smiled a bit, happy that even though she didn't make sense half of the time, Phoebe knew what was best for Helga. And she was thankful for that.

"How did you get to be so smart?" Helga asked her. Phoebe laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was never one to take compliments very well.

"Oh, you know…" she said. "Books, and things."

Helga snorted.

Back at the boarding house, Arnold wasn't having too much luck seeking advice.

"So let me get this straight," Grandpa said for the millionth time, "this Hilda girl, she's been mean to you all your life, eh?"

The blonde nodded, resting his chin against his clenched fist.

"And now she's acting strange, hm?"

Again, Arnold nodded, his eyes drooping.

"I don't understand the problem."

Arnold sighed, letting his head collapse onto the kitchen table before him. He wanted to talk to Forrest, the all-knowing connoisseur of girls and girl-related subjects. But Forrest was off calling all of his relatives and ex-girlfriends to tell them about the marriage. So Arnold had Grandpa instead, who… well, just didn't get much of anything these days.

"The problem is that… well, I kind of like her," Arnold confessed.

"You like who?"

"Never mind."

With that, he scooted his chair away from the table and stood, feeling worse than before.

**A/N: Like I said, very short. However, this chapter is basically just a transition chapter, anyway. I hope it's all right though; I'm kind of rusty. Thanks everyone, and let me know what you thought!**


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